


Understanding

by Emerald_Goddess



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Harding is shy, Hehehe, If I can't romance either, Krem is da man, Lydia Trevelyan ships it so much, Multiple chapters, Set During Game, i suck at titles and summaries, papa bless, romance of the century, they can have each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-28 09:02:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 26,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6323266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerald_Goddess/pseuds/Emerald_Goddess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Krem meets Harding. A shy dwarf, thrusted into the task of saving the world. But with this threat of the end, Krem can't help but wonder what if...</p><p>Harding meets Krem. A dashing Charger, caught up in the Inquisition's affairs of politics and demons alike. Harding could always read people quite well, but she just can't seem to get figure out what exactly Krem is thinking...</p><p>Harding and Krem find each other in the ashes of war.</p><p>Rated Mature for language, violence, along with mature references and scenes. Just the good ol' stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Glimpse

Krem smashes his maul against a Venatori, the foul sound of crunching bone making his lip curl in disgust. These Venatori bastards are half the reason why everyone thinks Tevinter’s a shit hole. Well, them, and because Tevinter is a shit hole anyway.

      The chief roars at the group of charging Venatori, but his eye travels to something behind Krem, “The Inquisition’s here. Let’s show them what we’ve got, boys!” The big Qunari hefts his battleaxe higher and begins charging towards the enemy.

      Krem yells out a battle cry before moving towards a spellcaster. A ball of fire shoots from the mage’s hand, but Krem drops into a roll on the pebbly ground, the fire zinging past his head.

      He’s back on his feet before the mage can get out another attack. With a grunt, Krem swings his maul, hitting the mage right in the chest. The attacker flies back, landing in the shallow shoreline. But he doesn’t get back up.

      Spinning, the warrior is hit with a face full of fist. Krem stumbles back, maul up in defense. But the Venatori is already swinging his sword.

      _This is going to hurt,_ eyes closing in reflex.

      But the blow never comes.

      Krem’s eyes snap open to see the Venatori collapse, an arrow stuck in the back of his head—pierced through helmet and all.

      His eyes move to Skinner with a grin, but she’s busy taking down a spellcaster with Dalish. He blinks.

      Who saved him then?

      Another arrow whizzes across the battlefield to strike a Venatori, with extreme accuracy. The Venatori was about to attack the Inquisition agent, the one with that green mark on her hand. The lifeless body topples to the ground, face planting.

      The Herald—the woman he spoke to about seeing the Chargers in action—straightens and sends a grin to someone in thanks.

      Krem’s eyes follow the Herald’s to see two dwarves skirting around the edges of the battlefield, picking off the Venatori with ranged attacks.

      The male dwarf has a crossbow, shooting short, steel bolts towards the enemy, while the woman uses a longbow to pick off her attackers, arrows landing with deadly precision.

      She was the one to save him.

      Freckles cover the expanse of her face, the skin underneath pale. Her brown hair is tied back in an intricate bun, and her green eyes track the movements of her victims. But it’s the long scar down her left cheek, starting near her ear and ending at her chin, that’s gotten Krem wondering. How did she get that?

      But he snaps back into the fight when Bull pushes a Venatori warrior towards Krem, “Finish him!”

      And Krem does.

      He rushes towards the warrior, maul swinging across his body.

      Bull trips the Venatori to his knees and Krem’s maul slams into his back, bones crunching. The Venatori doesn’t move.

      Bull claps him on the back, “Good hit.”

      “I always try my best chief,” he says with a grin.

      “How’d we do?” Bull asks with a matching grin.

      Krem straightens. They had been fighting well before the Inquisition agents had come to help. Stitches had been making sure the wounded were out of the fight. Krem glances around the pebbly shore line, “Five or six wounded, chief. No dead.”

      “That’s what I like to hear. Let the throatcutters finish up, then break out the casks.”

      Krem grins. Opening the casks were the best part of his job.

      Bull turns to the Inquisition agents, his rumbling voice echoing across the rainy Coast.

      Dalish nods at him, “Them Inquisition agents were alright.”

      He nods, “At least they can hold their own. That’s a good sign.” The Herald and Bull sit on a log, her companions standing around them.

      All but the dwarf. She’s picking up her arrows to refill her quiver.

      Dalish watches the dwarf with a small smile on her, something Krem never sees. Him and Dalish gather the wine casks, the elf holding the bottles as Krem opens their tops with an axe.    

      He glances back at the dwarf as she comes to stand next to the Herald, golden brown hair damp from the rain.

      “Excellent,” says Bull, grinning like the maniac he is.                                     

      Krem looks up from the wine casks when Bull spins to face the Chargers.

      “Krem!” booms Bull, looking at him, “Tell the men to finish drinking on the road. The Chargers just got hired!”

      Krem throws his hands in the air, “What about the casks, Chief? We just opened them up. With _axes_.”

      “Find some way to seal them. You’re Tevinter, right?” Bulls begins moving with the Inquisition agents. “Try blood magic.” It’s a mumble under his breath, but Krem hears the jest anyway.

      He sends the chief a look.

      “Don’t worry, I’m sure we could easily finish those casks off for you,” says the Herald with a grin.

      The dwarf looks at the Herald, a smirk on her lips, “Drinking on the job, Your Worship?” Her green eyes sparkle with mischief.

      The Herald’s eyes narrow to the dwarf, “Only if you’ll allow it, Head Scout.”

      Head Scout. A title like that wouldn’t be an easy prize.

      “Of course.”

      Bull rumbles a laugh and slaps Krem on the back, “You’ve got yourself a few drinking buddies it seems.”


	2. Better Introductions

The Herald groans in frustration, the sound echoing across the night.

      And low moans answers her.

      “Oh shit, really?” she cries. “They heard that?”

      The bog water around them ripples as figures move towards them.

      Cassandra grunts, “Weapons up. And Lydia, Maker preserve me, stop talking. It attracts their attention.”

      Harding nocks an arrow, pulling the string of her bow taut, as she lines up her target. The shambling corpse walks towards her, slow and steady. She can’t believe these things were _people_.

      With a short breath, she fires, the arrow flying towards the walking dead. The arrow hits the corpse in the eye, sending it back into the bog water it came from.

      The Fallow Mire was certainly a place she never wants to visit again.

      Seeker Cassandra and the Herald spin almost as one, guarding each other’s back and moving together.

      Varric, Vivienne and Harding begin picking off the slower corpses from the fringes of the battlefield, while the rest fight blade-to-blade. Well, the rusting blades the corpses hold in their rotting hands aren’t great of a weapon.

      Someone barrels through the horde of walking dead, their maul swinging through the fragile bodies. Krem.

      Harding has seen him a few times—at the Storm Coast and around Haven.

      Second Lieutenant according to her scouts. And very good with his maul. He lifts it with ease, yelling at his allies to certain positions. He’s certainly experienced on the battlefield, something the Inquisition needs in trying times.

      A growl near Harding makes her turn, but she’s too late as the corpse hits her on the shoulder. Her fingers spring open from the hit, making her drop the arrow she was about the nock.

      She curses herself for being distracted.

      As Harding stumbles back, Lydia comes rushing through, swinging her blades across the corpse’s body. It crumbles to the damp ground, one last scream tearing from its throat.

      Harding blinks and looks at the Herald, “Thank you, Your Worship.”

      The woman grins, “Happy to help. And… Lydia. Just Lydia, if you will.”

      Harding nods, the others coming to stand around the Herald. The Fallow Mire has been pretty much mapped out by Harding’s scouts, and the missing soldiers were rescued from those Avvar pricks, but Cullen wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything of importance left lying around in the bog. Harding honestly doesn’t think there is.

      Only corpses and mud.

      Vivienne looks around, “My dears. I don’t want to rush anyone, but could we please find a place to camp. My shoes are getting wet.”

      “We _are_ in a bog, Vivienne,” says Lydia.

      “Ah, it’s not so bad. Once you get used to the smell and the walking dead,” says Krem, hefting his maul over his shoulder.

      Vivienne just huffs.

      “Not to mention the rain, the mud, the bugs and the weeds,” adds Lydia.

      Krem grins, “Oh yeah, almost forgot them.”

      “Ugh,” comes the Seeker’s reply.

      Lydia looks at Harding, “My dear Head Scout, where do you reckon the best place for a camp would be?”

      Everyone looks at her. They’ve been walking and fighting all day and Harding’s relieved to finally be stopping.

      She bites her lip, “Well, we need to move to higher ground. That way, there’s less water… less water means less walking dead… less walking dead means more sleep.”

      “I like the sound of that,” says Lydia. “Let’s move.”

     

 

+++

 

The fire flickers in the night breeze, casting long shadows across the bog.

      Harding sits on a log, bow resting against her knee as she sharpens thin sticks of wood into deadly tips. They’ll easily tear through the soft flesh of the dead.

      She sighs, eyes flicking to the others. It’s the second round of watches for the night. Her, the Herald and three Chargers are left to make sure nothing happens to the camp. And from the position of the moon, she’s still got two hours left of watch.

      Lydia is seated on the other side of the fire, reading a book. She’s deep in concentration, perhaps reading an exciting scene in the narrative.

      “It occurred to me that we both haven’t really introduced ourselves,” comes a voice.  

      Harding turns to see the Charger’s Second Lieutenant standing near their log.

      She swallows, “Cremisius Aclassi, right?”

      “Second Lieutenant of the Chargers,” he says with a nod. “But just Krem, if you will.”

      Harding nods, “Scout Harding. It’s good to have you with the Inquisition. Maker knows we need as many people as we can get.

      “Glad to be of assistance,” he says, coming to share the log she sits on. “The Chargers are glad you signed us up. Even if the Chief doesn’t say so.”

      “The Iron Bull?” asks Harding.

      Krem’s brown eyes flick to hers, “Yeah. He’s a good man. Just a little rough around the edges. And a clumsy bastard.”

      She can see the small dimples when he smiles. His face is smooth and tanned, his jawline impeccable and… clean shaven. Oh Maker, she can’t believe that human jawline—most dwarves have beards hiding half their face… but not him. His chestnut eyes glow in the fire’s light and his brown hair is slicked back to one side.

      “And the Chargers?” she asks.

      “We’re loyal, strong, handsome, and we’ll kill anything the Breach throws at us.”

      Harding raises her eyebrow, “All of those things? We’ll have to see.”

      “Handsome has already been checked off the list, obviously.”

      He’s cocky, but she can see the teasing grin he sends her. Harding can’t help but blush.

      “Oh please,” comes Lydia’s voice. She looks up from her book.

      “I wouldn’t say handsome,” says Dalish, glancing at the group. She points her staff at herself, “There are ladies in the Chargers. Men like you always forget that women liked to be called beautiful.”

       Krem holds his hands up in defeat, “Of course. Of course. The men are dashing and the ladies beautiful.”

      “Much better.”

      “Alright, now that you’ve done boasting, let’s do a sweep of the camp. Harding, take the dashing Krem and make sure there aren’t any dead near the lake. Dalish and I will go check the hill,” says Lydia.

      Harding stands with a nod, gathering her bow and arrows.

      Krem smiles at Harding, “Lead the way, my fair lady.”

      Harding can’t help but roll her eyes, “I never heard brave on that list of yours.”

      The man just scoffs, “Well, I’ll just have to prove that to you as well.”

      If she’s honest, Harding doesn’t mind that at all.

      Having the Chargers around is quite enjoyable. Especially when the Second Lieutenant calls her a ‘fair lady’.

      Yes. She’ll have to see if Krem can check all those things off that list.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, bless the Fallow Mire.
> 
> Alright! Another chapter update!! They'll probably slow down now, cause I'm at uni and what not, but expect more to come!


	3. The Iron Bull

Krem stands near the stables, next to Iron Bull. They wave the Herald’s small group off as they leave for Redcliffe. Almost everyone turned up to see them off. It is a pretty big gamble, going to see that Tevinter Magister to form an alliance. If Krem remembers one thing about Tevinter, it’s that you should never trust a Tevinter Magister. They were always bad news. But right now, everyone’s desperate and they’ll do whatever it takes to get that Breach closed.

      Krem just hopes the Herald can do what needs to be done. She’s a resourceful woman, so he’s sure she will.

      Bull grumbles, “I should be going with them.”

      Krem nods, but he knows the risk, “They’d see you coming a mile away and hide behind the castle walls for good.”

      The Chief looks at him, “You calling me ugly, Krem?”

      “You’re a scary bastard, boss. Take it as a compliment.”

      Bull gives him a laugh, “Yeah, yeah Krem.”

      People begin moving off to their jobs, mumbling about the mission. Krem sees the Herald’s three advisors talking amongst themselves. The Commander—Cullen if he recalls—seems worried. He was a Templar… there is reason to his concern. And if Tevinter is involved in this, well, there’s reason to be worried.

      “And now we wait,” says Bull. His hands are on his hips. “They’ll be fine. I know Lydia’s a tough woman. And the Seeker? Don’t get me started on her.”

      Krem nods, “I hope you’re right, chief. We need people like them to help this shitty world.”

      They’re silent for a few minutes, watching the Breach from their tent just beside the stables. Inside the canvas tent is Bull’s letters to the Ben-Hassrath. And letters from the Qunari organisation. Not much has been said to them, except the Templars and mages are both causing issues for the Inquisition.

      “Ah, come on, we better do something productive while we wait. Better than standing around,” says Bull. “Chargers! To the tavern.”

      Krem smiles at the idea as the rest of the group file into Haven. He pushes himself off the rock barrier he leans against, but spots a woman at one of the stables, patting a grey stallion, while feeding it a carrot.

        He stops, “Hey Bull. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

      The Qunari turns to face Krem, eyes following his gaze. He nods to the others, “Go ahead. Krem and I will meet you there.”

      The rest of the Chargers walk off as Krem leads Bull over to the dwarf at the stables.

      “Scout Harding?” he asks.

      The scout looks up, slightly surprised, but she smiles, “Oh, Krem. And Iron Bull.” Straightening, she extends a hand to Bull, “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

      Bull’s massive hand engulfs hers, but neither of them seem to mind.

      “Scout Harding, eh?” says Bull. “Krem’s told me a lot about you.”

      Krem stiffens, but tries to keep his face straight.

      Harding glances at Krem, “All good things, I hope.”

      “Of course,” grins Bull. “Krem here told me you took out three corpses with just one arrow. That’s impressive.”

      Harding flushes, “Just doing my job.”

      Bull nods, “And a good job at that. Even Lydia’s brags about how good the Head Scout is.”

      Krem clears his throat, trying not to make this meeting awkward, “Harding here scouts out areas, making sure they’re safe for the Herald and her team. Then she maps them.”

      She nods, “It’s a hard life for a dwarf like me, but I get through it.” The grins that spreads across her lips tells Krem that she’s teasing.

      Bull gives her a gruff laugh, “I’ll sure you’ll fit in just fine. You should come have a drink with me and the boys. We could always do with a new face. And I’m sure Sera’s in need of company.”

      “A drink?” she asks with a blink.

      “Yeah. It’ll be fun. Right Krem?”

      “As long as you don’t get too over your head, chief. Remember when you ended up on the roof?”

      Bull just sends him a glare.

      Krem looks at Harding, “But other than that, we’re not that bad. I promise.”

      Harding smiles, “I’m sure I can spare a few drinks before the Herald comes back.”

      “That a girl,” says Bull.

      The three of them begin their way towards the tavern, but Krem notices Harding glance back towards the path. One last look to where Lydia and her group were last seen.

      Bull lumbers on ahead, so Krem looks at Harding, “Don’t worry. They’ll be fine.”

      Harding bites her lip, “I hope so. I may not be much help, but I feel like I should be there with them.”

      Krem looks away, “We’re all thinking the same thing.”

      Harding glances at him, “I guess all we can do now is pray that they make it. They’ll… they’ll make it, I’m sure of it.”

      Krem smiles, “If you believe in them, than that’s all they need.”

      She smiles at him, “Let’s just hope Lydia doesn’t trip on anything.”

      “Stumbles will be fine. Cassandra’s there to catch her.”

      Harding laughs at that.

      “Are you two coming or what?” comes Bull’s voice. He turns to look at them. “Those ales aren’t going to drink themselves, you know.”

      “Yeah, yeah, chief. Keep your pants on,” yells Krem. He squints at Bull, “Though that’s quite hard for you, isn’t it?”

      Bull grumbles something and Krem can’t help but grin.

      Harding’s blushing, but Krem can see she’s trying very hard not to laugh.

      He watches the blushing dwarf. When her eyes meet his, it takes all his power to not get lost in those green pools.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh! Thank you for all the kudos and kind comments, I'm glad you guys like it! Sorry for the slow update, I went camping for Easter and had no power or internet :/ Plus there was torrential rain. 
> 
> But anywho, only a short chapter this time, but there is plenty more to come!


	4. Fresh Air

Harding’s the first one to spot them. Of course she is. How long has she been standing out here for? A few hours at least. A raven had arrived to say they were on their way back from Redcliffe.

      The group crests the small hill and begin their way towards the stables.

      She can’t help the relived smile that spreads across her face. Finally, they’re home. And then she spots something big coming over the hill. A massive army.

      The mages.

      A horn sounds across the village—the sound of soldiers returning home. Villagers and Inquisition troops begin to gather around the village’s entrance, hoping to get a glimpse at the massive group of mages.

      A dangerous group, some might think. Harding’s just glad they’re willing to help. Hopefully.

      She walks towards the Herald and her smaller group—with Cassandra, Varric and Dorian.

      Cassandra dismounts from her horse, nodding at the dwarf, “Harding.”

      Harding smiles, “Seeker. I hope everything went as planned.” She glances at Lydia, who’s staring at nothing.

      Her expression seems haunted, like she witnessed something she never wanted to. Her green eyes settle on nothing.

      “The mages will help us, yes. And we have enough power to close the Rift,” says Cassandra. “Let us just hope the mages will cooperate.”

      “Well, I mean, they don’t have much of a choice, being kicked out of Fereldan,” says Varric.

      “Yes, let us not remind each other about that,” says Dorian.

      Lydia dismounts, boots hitting the soft snow. Her haunted eyes turn to Harding, “Harding… it is good to see you.”

      “And you Herald. How… ah, how are you feeling?”

      She keeps staring at nothing, “Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.” Her voice is emotionless.

      Cassandra looks at Harding, lips pressed together, “Come. We shall drink some hot cocoa together.”

     

+++

 

Harding can’t believe it. Won’t believe it.

      Surely the future couldn’t be as messed up as that. Lydia must have seen something different, something only belonging in nightmares.

      In that future, Harding died. Lydia hadn’t said exactly, but Harding knows it wouldn’t end well. The Fade became part of Thedas and an army of demons wiped out the Inquisition—and the world.

      She doesn’t feel sad about it—she can’t afford to think like that at a time like this. But, she can’t help feeling a little scared.

      Harding walks along the outskirts of the Haven, a routine check of the borders. There’s also a lot of game out here, something she didn’t expect in the middle of the Frostback Mountains. The Hinterlands, where she grew up, always had game because it was warm and dry. In these mountains, blizzards and heavy snow were a common thing.

      She holds her bow, scanning the snow-covered landscape for game.

      A crack fills the white forest and her head snaps towards the noise. Something must have stepped on a fallen stick.

      Slinking further into the forest, she holds her bow out, an arrow nocked and ready to fire. Footsteps shuffle behind a massive tree and Harding moves slowly around the trunk, crouched. She uses the trunk to hide herself, preparing to bring down whatever is behind the tree.

      She takes a deep breath and springs from her hiding stop, bringing her bow up.

      “Whoa!” Krem jumps back, hands up in a gesture of peace.

      “Krem!” screeches Harding, dropping the arrow before she can fire. She blinks rapidly, “Maker. I’m so sorry! I should have checked before I—”

      “Hey, hey!” calms Krem. “It’s fine, seriously. I should have known you would be hunting at this time.”

      “No, no. It’s not your fault,” stutters Harding. She can tells she’s blushing and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear to try and focus on something else.

      He gives her a smile—a drop dead smile, “I’m the one aimlessly walking through the forest.”

      Harding looks at her bow, “Well, I mean, you don’t seem to be hunting.”

      He looks away, “Those things that Lydia said, about the future? Do you think it’s possible they’ll come true?”

      Harding’s brow furrows. She doesn’t want that dark future to come true, but somehow she knows if they don’t stop the Breach soon, it would become a reality. She swallows, “We have the mage’s help. The dark future was placed in effect when Lydia failed getting help from them. We have enough power now to close the Breach.”

      Krem’s brown eyes move to hers, “But what if it doesn’t work? Are we still doomed? Something else could happen.”

      She doesn’t have the answers, but she wishes she did.

      “Krem… I don’t know what will happen. We just have to live everyday as it comes. Enjoy every day like it’s your last. At least until Thedas is stable again.”

      He nods, “Yeah… good point.” He smiles again, “Thank you Harding. I came out here to clear my head. I thought I needed fresh air, but it seemed all I needed was you.” He coughs, “I mean, your outlook on this situation.”

      Harding smiles, trying not to flush from his comment, “Lydia is going to seal the Breach in the morning. That, at least, we can hope for.”

      Krem nods, “She’ll get it done.”

      They stand together in silence for a few seconds before Krem lets out a huff of air, mist swirling in the wake of his breath, “I better let you get back to hunting.”

      Harding blinks, “Oh. Yeah, I forgot about that.”

      He grins, “Mind if I tag along? If these are my last days, I might as well spend them hunting with a pretty lady like yourself.”

      She coughs, “Well, you can add hunting to that never-ending list of yours.”

      Krem laughs, “Taught by the best of course.”

      “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter this time round, but I hope you guys enjoyed it! Bless awkward Harding.


	5. Capture the Flag

Krem’s shield flies from his arm, splintered and broken. He looks at his boss, “Thanks chief.” It’s a sarcastic tone.

      Iron Bull squares his shoulder, proud of his shoulder bash he just charged at Krem. The attack had broken Krem’s shield and almost knocked his arm from his socket.

      The chief just chuckles, “Ah, you needed a good bashing. Helps get you in the mood.”

      “In the mood for what, exactly?”

      The Qunari just shrugs, “Many things. Depends on what you want. Maybe you’re in the mood for a nice cold ale. Or perhaps a good dump.” He quirks his eyebrows, “Or a good fucking.”

      “Chief, really? Do you have to talk about it out loud? Everyone can hear you,” says Krem, picking up the remnants of his shield that Bull broke.

      Bull just laughs, “I forgot you humans make a big deal out of it.”

      Krem sends him a look, “Well, we don’t go around aimlessly sleeping with everyone we come across.”

      Bull just chuckles, “Where’s the fun in that?”

      “Fun in what?” comes a voice.

      Krem and Bull turn to see Lydia, Dorian and Harding coming down the snowy path to the training area.

      Bull cocks an eyebrow, “Oh, Krem and I were just talking about your fragile views about sleeping with people.”

      Lydia coughs, nearly tripping over her own foot, while Harding looks at the ground. Dorian’s just smirking.

      And Krem covers his face, “Bull—”

      “You humans—and dwarf— must live sheltered lives. You take things too seriously,” continues Bull. “For us, it’s like going to a healer. Sometimes it’s this long involved thing. It takes all day, leaves you walking funny… Other times, you’re in and out in five minutes,” he clicks his tongue, “‘Thank you, see you next week’.”

      Lydia stares at the Qunari, “That’s… a good thing?”

      “Yes.”

      “It is a casual… activity,” says Dorian, seemingly agreeing with the Qunari. “But I must ask. Sometimes only five minutes? Surely someone of your stature could hold on for a little longer.”

       Bull’s eyes narrow at the mage, “Oh believe me, I can. I happen to know a trick.”

      “Oh?” Dorian raises an eyebrow, “What would that be?”

      Bull grins, “Well. I’d be happy to show you sometime.”

      “I’d be honoured,” says Dorian.

      “Honoured?” laughs Bull. “You’ll be screaming.”

      “Too much information,” says Lydia.

      Bull turns to her, “Don’t worry boss, when you find a man, I’ll tell them the trick to. You’re welcome.”

      Lydia laughs nervously, “Gee, thanks Bull.”

      “Don’t worry, you _will_ be thanking me.”

      “Alright, who’s here to train?” asks Krem, trying to change the subject before it got too out of hand.

      Harding perks up, “Perhaps a game of capture the flag?”

      Bull grins, “Ladies against us gentlemen. Whoever loses shouts the winning team drinks for the night.”

      “Deal,” nods Lydia, glancing at Harding.

      Dorian nods, “I think I’ll leave you be. After all, I’ll sacrifice myself so there’s an even pairing for each team.”

      “Wow Dorian, you’re so heroic,” mocks Lydia.

      “I know,” he says, walking away from the group. He doesn’t look back as he waves a hand in the air, “What would you do without me?”

      “Still win capture the flag,” retorts Harding.

      Krem grins at the dwarf, “Oh, it’s on.”

     

+++

 

Krem runs through the snowy forest, wooden sword in hand. Bull had split off from Krem, to cover more ground.

      They’re competitive to say the least.

      He hasn’t spotted Harding, Lydia or their flag yet, but he knows he’s getting close. He has to be.

      He has to confess that this is better training than having Bull smash the crap out of him. Plus, he doesn’t mind walking through the woods surrounding Haven. It’s calming for him—it’s very different from Tevinter’s harsh landscape and even harsher buildings, all held together by magic. The afternoon sun streams in through the bare trees and the sky is orange, highlighted by the Breach’s pulsing green waves through the sky. He must admit, for something so dangerous, it is beautiful.

      But he’s reminded of earlier that morning. Harding had found him here, thinking about the future, and the Breach—the very thing he thought beautiful. If the Breach did swallow the world whole… would it be slow, taking each city at a time, or would it be done in a second? He prefers the latter. And he thinks of Harding, this shy, loving dwarf thrust into the trouble and watching it unfold first hand. But she wants this—this chance to save the world. And he commends her for that.

      It’s only then that he spots a green flag, snapping in the wind. It stands in the middle of a small clearing, not at all hidden.

      Krem can’t help but grin to himself. He’s found their flag.

      All he has to do now is grab it and run back to Bull’s and his flag before the two women can get him.

      He allows a smile to himself—they’re going to win. At least he had the sense to hide his flag behind a bush. Moving to hide behind a thick tree, he scans his surroundings.

      Only snow and tress. No one is around. Lydia and Harding have probably gone to fetch his flag.

      And so Krem takes a deep breath before rushing from his hiding spot. The snow flicks up behind him as he runs, but all he cares about is the flag in front of him. If he can just grab it and head to the line of trees, he should be able to make it back without being seen. He has a knack for stealth.  

      But then he hears a scream and Lydia breaks into the clearing, a red flag held in her grasp. She found their flag. But Bull’s hot on her heels, trying to stop her.

      Krem stares at the Herald in horror. How had she found their flag so quickly? But he doesn’t stop running—he can’t afford to stop now. But he’s torn between what to do: go for Lydia to stop her, or go to the flag and hope Bull can reach her in time so she doesn’t tag her flag.

      He doesn’t break his stride, continuing towards the girl’s flag. He just has to trust Bull will catch the Herald.

      It just occurs to him that Harding’s nowhere to be seen when something jumps into his path, blocking his way.

      He spins, trying to miss, but the two of them go tumbling through the snow, a mess of limbs.

      When he’s stopped moving, his lying in the snow, spread eagled. But something’s on top of him. Krem’s eyes snap open to see Harding lying on top of him, dazed from her fall. Her hands rest on his shoulders and wisps of her golden hair dangle down the side of her face, nearly touching Krem’s nose.

      She blinks and her gaze settles on him. There’s a few seconds of silence before she lets out a small scream, her agile body standing up in an instant.

      “I’m so sorry, I… I didn’t realise…” she stutters, mist swirling around her when she speaks. But her eyes turn mischievous, “Wait. I was meant to do that. Distracting you was in my plan all along.”

      Krem rubs the back of his head, snow falling between his fingers. He laughs, “Oh, I see how it is. Like to play dirty, huh?”

      He looks over to see Lydia dancing around her flag, whooping in success. She skips over to Harding and they link arms, skipping in circles, giggling to one another.

      Bull walks over to Krem, scratching his stomach, “We’ll let ‘em have this one, Krem de la Crème.”

      “Yeah, they got us good, chief.”

      Lydia clears her throat, “We won fair and square.”

      Harding holds a hand out for Krem to take. And he does, his hand engulfing hers. When Krem’s back on his feet, he gives Harding a grin, brushing the snow from his armour.

      “So,” says Harding. “Where are those drinks you promised us?”

      Bull bellows a laugh, “I like your thinking, Harding.”

      But Krem’s still thinking about the way Harding’s hair glimmered in the sunlight, speckled with bits of snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, I just love corny things like that! As always, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and stay groovy!


	6. Time to Celebrate

The Breach is sealed.

      Thedas can finally breathe again. For now. But, Krem’s still tense—who knows, the world could turn to shit again very soon. But just as Harding said, he’s gotta enjoy his days as they come.

      And that’s what he’s doing now.

      “Alright chief. Pick someone good…” says Krem, leaning back into his chair. He takes a quick sip of his ale.

      “Trust us,” says Bull, with that shit-eating grin.

      It’s only a game anyway, just a little fun with the boys. Krem would be embarrassed to admit to anyone other than those sitting here what exactly they were playing…

      The chief’s eye settles on a girl—Krem’s age by the looks—serving drinks to the troops, “Her. The tavern maid.”

      Krem looks to the girl. Her brown hair is long and soft, waist small and chest almost bursting from her dress.

      “Chief, you’ve out done yourself,” grins Krem. He could work with her. She certainly didn’t seem shy. Maybe he could get her alone… after all, the celebrations are just starting to get exciting.

      The game is to help each man try to hook up with someone. Dorian, Bull and Varric each are playing, trying to help each other pick women they could go talk to.

      And Lydia decided to play as well. Closing the Breach has its privileges. She was the one to approve each woman selected.

      Krem watches as the girl works, giving patrons drinks around the massive bonfire. She bends over to pick up an empty tankard and Krem swallows.

      Lydia clears her throat, “I have someone much better.”

      “Go on boss,” says Bull, a grin spreading across his lips.

      Her eyes move to the other side of the bonfire, where various scouts are chatting and dancing. And Krem spots her.

      She talks to a fellow scout, her armour shined and cleaned. Her golden hair is tied up in a bun, freckles glowing in the firelight.

      “Scout Harding?” asks Krem. His heart beats faster, and he can’t look away from her.

      “She’s cute, she’s got class, yet she’ll stab you in the ass,” says Lydia. She blinks, a laugh escaping her, “That was beautiful.”

      The rounds continue, each picking out someone, but Krem can’t shake the feeling he got when Lydia suggested Harding.

      The dwarf is more conservative that—she doesn’t seem like a one night stand kind of girl. Sure, Krem and Harding have both known each other for a while now, but Krem still hesitates. He doesn’t want to get laid for the sake of it, he wants it to actually mean something—to him and to her.   

      The group chat for a little while longer, before everyone starts to move off to different parts of Haven, to mingle. Bull and Dorian talk softly to one another, prompting Krem to move along as well. There are some things a Second Lieutenant shouldn’t hear when Bull flirts with Dorian. Crude jokes lead to mental images Krem’s just not ready for.

      Perhaps Stitches wants another drink.

      He takes one last gulp of his ale and stands, stretching his back, “I’ll leave you two be. Just make sure you get a room.”

      Bull looks up, “Ah, Krem de la crème, making your move are you?”

      “What?”

      “On Harding. She just got up to get a drink.”

      Krem blinks several times, “No… I was…” He can’t believe the stuttering fool he’s become.

      “Go talk to her. What’s the worst that can happen?”

      Krem gives him a pointed look, “A lot of things.”

      “Just go,” says Bull, pushing Krem towards the drinks table.

      Haven looks a lot different from its usual snowy, little village. The bonfire burns in the middle of the yard, whilst banquet tables have been placed at the edge of the yard. Each table is covered in food and drinks. And Harding stands at one of the tables, chatting to a friend as she pours herself a cup of ale.

      Krem musters his courage, taking a breath and moves towards the two scouts. He straightens his armour as he walks, hoping to keep his mind busy. He swallows.

      Maker, why does he feel like this? He’s used to picking up girls. He’s done it before. But Harding just… feels different. She gives him butterflies every time she looks at him.

      The two women look up when they hear his approach, and Krem smiles.

      “Krem, how are you?” asks Harding.

      “I’m… ah, great actually. We closed the Breach.” He curses himself for being blunt.

      Her smile seems to light up the night. Quick introductions are made, and Harding’s friend, Haley, excuses herself. But not without a quick smile to Harding.

      “Did you want a drink?” Harding asks when her friend is gone.

      Krem glances at his empty tankard, “Yeah, why not?”

      The tavern maid Krem had first been paired with by Bull waltzes over and pours him a drink of ale. She smiles at him, batting her eyelids as she bends a little, before moving away in a flurry of skirts.

      Harding blinks, watching the tavern maid leave.

      Krem doesn’t know if he was seeing things, but the maid seemed to dip a little too far when serving them.

      But, his attention is on Harding. Whenever she walks into a room, his attention will be on her.

      “So…” says Krem, clearing his throat. “How are you feeling?”

      “Oh Maker. It’s unbelievable, we did it Krem!” she grins at him, gripping her tankard in both hands. “I can’t believe it!”

      He loves it when she’s like this. He wants her to be happy all the time. And he can’t help but smile, “I’m just glad the weight has been lifted off our shoulders.”

      “We can breathe for a few days.”

      Krem looks to the Inquisition, everyone chatting happily, clapping to the bard’s songs or dancing.

      Harding follows his gaze, “This is what the Inquisition is. It’s about bringing joy. Thedas is still unstable and civil unrest is everywhere. But hopefully we can help restore Thedas to what is was before.”

      Krem smiles, “Harding—”

      “Lace… please. My name’s Lace,” she says.

      He blinks in surprise.

      He can see her draw back, shoulders hunched, like she regrets saying it, “My mother was… a seamstress.”

      Krem realises she is embarrassed because of his stunned expression and he kicks himself for being so inconsiderate. He had never heard her first name before—she had always been addressed as Harding.

      Here is this woman, fierce and proud, a great fighter and an excellent marksmen. She seems so tough. And her name is Lace. He loves it.

      “Lace is a very pretty name. It suits you,” he says. He grins at her, “A pretty name for a pretty dwarf.”

      She blushes, “Don’t get cocky now, Aclassi.” But a smile moves across her lips and he can tell she’s not embarrassed anymore. She had no need to be in the first place.

      When she smiles, the scar on her cheek moves. Since the moment he laid eyes on her, he’s wondered how she got it. He wonders who would be so cruel to do that to her.

      But she notices him looking at her scar before he can ask.

      Her fingers move to her cheek, “It’s, ah, quite…” He can tell she’s struggling to find the right words.

      “Deep?”

      She hesitates, “Yeah… I guess. I was going to go with distinct, but _deep_ also describes it.” She laughs softly.

      He swallows, “How did you get it?” He blinks, thinking how rude it is to ask, “Ah, sorry, If you don’t mind me asking.”

      She just smiles, “It’s fine, really Krem.” Her fingers touch the scar and he has the urge to touch her cheek, to feel the scar. She clears her throat, “My village—in the Hinterlands—was home to ten families. Dwarfs, humans, elves. It was a just a normal day, I was herding sheep like usual, when we were attacked.”

      Krem nods, urging her to continue.

      “They were bandits, raiding our village. They wanted our food, coin and valuables…” she hesitates. “And the women.”

      Krem swallows, “Those bastards.” It’s a breathy sentence, but she hears him.

      She just shrugs, “I found a bow and some arrows. Started sticking it to them before they could make off with us. The others soon followed my lead, defending our land. We took down the gang, but not before their leader got an attack in.” She points to her cheek, “An axe. I just had enough time to dodge so he didn’t take my whole face off. A bloody mess, but luckily it wasn’t as bad as it looked. I did ruin my tunic though. It was a nice colour, until all the blood got on it.”

      Krem just can’t believe she managed to attack men who were probably three times her size.

      “My mother stitched me up—after all, she said it was just like sewing,” Harding smiles at Krem. “And now I’m here. With a _deep_ scar on my cheek to show for it.”

      “Here you are,” nods Krem. He looks away, “I’m sorry they did that to you.”

      Her hand comes to rest on his arm, “You don’t have to say sorry, it wasn’t you who attacked. It was those bastards—but they got what they deserved. A few arrows up the ass taught them.”

      Krem smiles, “That was brave of you.”

      Okay, he’ll admit to himself that he is trying to flirt with her. But here she is, telling him about her past, he can at least return the favor by complimenting her. Maybe getting on her good side.

      And she blushes, “It was nothing, really.” Harding looks down at her hand, as if only just remembering she had placed it on Krem’s arm. He doesn’t mind, of course.

      But she pulls it away quickly, clearing her throat. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, looking away from him.

      Krem wants to tell her that she looks pretty tonight, but as he opens his mouth, a horn fills the air.

      The mountain only a mile away from Haven is covered with soldiers, torches burning in the night. A wave of red. 

      Harding gasps, stepping back in alarm, and Krem’s eyes dart to the others. Haven is chaotic to say the least. Scouts and soldiers run everywhere, trying to ready themselves and he sees the Herald trying to get information from Cullen about the red army on the mountain. A glowing army and Krem has that horrible feeling deep in his gut, telling him that magic is involved. An evil magic.

      He turns back to Harding.

      Their eyes meet.

      The Inquisition is under attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the slow update, Uni has been hell. But I managed to type out a few more chapters ahead from here, so I should be able to update sooner!! 
> 
> Thanks for reading and stay groovy :)


	7. Haven Falls

The haze of ale makes it hard to think. But the bottom line is: they are under attack. From what, Harding can only guess to be the Templars.

      But they’re different. A red glow seems to emit from every enemy. Not quite fire, but what she thinks is magic. It has to be, because there’s no other way of explaining it. The familiar buzz in the air when magic is around convinces her.

      Harding may have grown up deprived of mages, but she had known a few. She had also known Templars—who should be immune to the effects of magic. Most of the Templars she knows won’t even touch magic, let alone allow it to possess their bodies.

      Maybe it’s the ale talking, but she knows this enemy is unnatural.

      They are corrupted—sick and cursed. Their bodies pulse with red and their faces are twisted from this red evil. They are not the Templars Harding knows.

      Harding and her scouts are rushing towards the various homes around the village, trying to get everyone safely into the Chantry.

      But the army has broken through Haven’s walls and are attacking mercilessly. She can’t imagine how bad it is outside the village’s walls. She had lost sight of Lydia and her group almost as soon as the fighting started. Worst of all, she doesn’t know where Krem is. He left when Iron Bull led the Chargers to defend Lydia’s back.

      She blinks, the thought startling her. Why is she worried about Krem? He’s an experienced warrior. He’ll be fine. She shouldn’t be worrying anyway.

      She grips her bow tighter, cursing herself because she _is_. What good was she if she just keeps worrying? And Krem of all people. She promised not to commit herself to anyone, for this war they’re in isn’t going to end anytime soon. It’s too dangerous to give her heart to someone she might lose.

      She spins, firing an arrow into a Templar. The Inquisition soldiers quickly came to call the enemy Red Templars. Fitting, considering the whole army is a wave of red.

      She can see Haley just ahead of her, her sword flashing in the moonlight. Harding waves Haley and the elf’s own team over to her.

      “We need to help the smithies. They’re still trapped near the stables,” says Harding, gripping her bow.

      Haley nods, “Let’s go.”

      Both teams head off, Harding taking the rear, while Haley leads from the front, shield up. Harding can hear the screams of the wounded and the dying, but she presses on.

      And they’re outside Haven’s walls, a shift in the chaos. It is much worse out here, where the snow is up to her ankles and the night sends shadows moving.

      Red Templars are attacking the stables, swords hacking at the wood and magic buzzing through the air.

      Harding fires off an arrow, sending it into a Templar’s throat. He drops to the snow, dead before he hits the ground.

      The rest of the Templars turn to the Inquisition scouts, howling in blood-curling battle cries.

      They run at the group and Harding only has enough time to dodge a sword as it bears down on her. Snow flicks up around her as she scrambles away from her attacker.

      She sees his face up close. Red veins snakes their way around his face, pulsing under his skin. His eyes are far from normal, wide and glazed over.

      He yells at her and rushes forward, sword raised. But Harding manages to nock an arrow, shooting it into his chest. He falls back, dark blood oozing from his wound.

      There is always regret when she must kill, but she doesn’t feel anything from killing him. A monster, perhaps against his will, yet still an abomination. It’s best to put him out of his misery.

      She stumbles to the snowy ground, losing her footing in the thick powder. It gets in her eyes, melts into her gloves.

      But she stands, heaving a lungful of air to clear her head.

      They usher the stable hands and the blacksmiths back inside Haven, where the fighting isn’t as bad.

      As her group turns to head back behind Haven’s wooden walls, she spots Bull, swinging his battle axe through a swarm of red Templars. He’s near the upper trebuchet, obviously defending it so Lydia can fire it.

      Her eyes dart around, but she can’t see Krem near the Qunari. A drop of dread begins to swirl inside her stomach.

      She’s about to run over to Bull, when Haley pulls her back, “No. We’ve got to defend Haven—the walls aren’t going to hold for much longer.”

      Her friend is right—there are still people rushing towards the safety of the Chantry and with the bulk of the Inquisition’s forces outside Haven’s walls, no one’s protecting inside the village.

      Harding bites her lip and glances back at Bull before moving after her group. They huddle near the market area—what’s left of it—her mismatched team of scouts, soldiers and mages.

      And they all look to her.

      She blinks. She is the highest ranked person in the team and they’re waiting for her command. But she doesn’t know what to do. Around them, red Templars are climbing the wooden-spiked walls like deranged animals, screeching and yelling. Some get impaled on the spikes before they reach over the fence. Even now she can see the snapped logs in various spots along the walls. The walls aren’t going to hold for much longer.

      But one thing’s for certain. If the walls fall, the red army will overrun Haven and more than likely destroy the Chantry before people have time to escape.

      She sobers up, the last of the ale draining from her as adrenaline kicks through her veins. Straightening, she grips her bow, “Haley, take five men and spread out across the front walls—I don’t want any red Templars getting over. I’ll take another five to gates. We’ll hold them of from there. We can’t shut them because we still have our people out there.”

      She sees them all nod. It may not be the grandest plan, but it will suffice.

      And so they keep guard, stopping any red Templar that comes near the gates. Her team twirls around her, swords dancing and shields bashing. The bodies of the enemy fall around her as she pierces them with arrows.

      Their battle cries ring out, and Harding finds herself in a rhythm, firing arrow after arrow, eyes picking targets.

      But her quiver is dangerously low and she knows they’re hold is sliding on Haven. Soon it will be overrun.

      She doesn’t know how long they’ve been fighting for, but it feels like ages. And still, no sign of Lydia or the Chargers. They’ve gone further out into the fighting.

      Byran, an elf often found scouting with Harding jerks back, his shoulder hitting the dwarf. She spins to find an arrow embedded in the elf’s chest. He claws at it and his eyes meet hers as he falls to the snow, ruby blood staining the white snow.

      She screams his name, but his open eyes are unseeing and his body is already turning cold.

      Then a hand comes to grab her shoulder, “We’re done here, we need to retreat.”

      It’s Haley. Her team has been defeated and even now Harding can see a cluster of red Templars climbing over the wooden walls.

      No amount of training could have prepared Harding for the horrors of this night. The snow is stained in red, bodies have been left to freeze in the cold and fires rise from the village buildings.

      This is the reality of war, she thinks.

      But she pulls herself from her mind and blinks at Haley, whose face is covered in blood—the blood of fallen comrades and red Templars alike.

      And she nods, “Alright, let’s… let’s go. We’ve done all we can.”

      She doesn’t like to admit defeat. But then she sees a trebuchet fire a boulder into the mountain where the army marches. The boulder hits a cliff and the entire cliff face shifts, the snow dislodged from the force. An avalanche begins to spar into action, taking out half the army, tiny specks of torch-light blinking out of existence as the snow moves down its devastating path. 

      It’s only then they hear a shrill roar, echoing across the mountains. Harding stops dead in her tracks, eyes moving to source.

      A dragon.

      Its black scales are as thick as steel armour, its jaws ready to cleave any unsuspecting person in two. Even the creature’s teeth are as long as Harding’s arrows. A ball of red fire shoots from its mouth, hitting something—or someone outside Haven’s walls.

      Haley takes a step back, “Shit.”

      “Go,” yells Harding. “Get back to the Chantry. I need to help the others.”

      Haley nods, leading the surviving troops towards the Chantry.

      The dragon flies overhead, wings beating fast as it begins to circle around Haven. Its beady eyes are black and searching.

      That’s when she spots them. The Herald and the Chargers, rushing towards the gates with terrified looks on their faces. Lydia’s group are dirty and snow cakes their armour, while the Chargers scream battle cries to ward of the advancing red Templars. Lydia’s screaming in fear as she runs, Cullen ushering them inside Haven, followed by the Chargers.

      Harding can’t help but let the relief show when she spots Krem rushing through the gates. When the last of the Inquisition soldiers make it through, the Commander pushes the doors closed, with the help of Bull.

      But the dragon flies over the gates, black scales gleaming in the moonlight.

      “Move!” yells Cullen.

      And so the group charges towards the Chantry, the dragon hot on their heels. Harding turns back to see the beast bank left, ready to swoop in from the side.

      Cassandra and Krem reach the Chantry doors first and they hastily open them, ushering everyone through.

      Harding and Lydia are at the back of the group, the dwarf firing arrows into the advancing red Templars. She can both see the dragon gaining on them and Lydia’s still screaming.

      Krem screams at them to hurry up, already closing the doors. Lydia grabs Harding’s hand, the two of them leaping through the doors as they shut tight. The building shakes as the dragon flies around it.

      They all breathe heavily hands on knees. Bull slaps Krem on the back, a grin on his face. He lost his eye patch in the fight, revealing the broken eye underneath. His eye is closed, but a long scar runs down his eye socket.

      Harding can’t help but be impressed.

      The interior of the Chantry isn’t looking too great at the moment. Candles have been blown out, leaving the hall in darkness, while rubble is strewn across the floor, bits of stone crumbling from the ceiling as the dragon continues the fly low over the building. She can hear its roars.

      The newcomer—Cole, she had heard— keeps the wounded Chancellor at his side. The boy, younger looking than Harding, talks to Lydia and her group, Cullen beside them, his sword still drawn.

      She looks around the Chantry. The hall has been cleared of people, as they hide down in the dungeons—probably the safest place in the Chantry. The Chargers mill around, fingers jittery and ready to keep fighting.

      “There is a path,” murmurs the Chancellor, gathering everyone’s attention. “You wouldn’t know it unless you’d made the summer pilgrimage. As I have.” He slowly gets to his feet, “The people can escape. She must have shown me. Andraste must have shown me so I could… tell you.”

      Lydia nods, turning to Cullen, “Will it work?”

      “Possibly. _If_ he shows us the path,” he hesitates. “But what of your escape?”

      She doesn’t answer.

      “Perhaps you will surprise it, find a way…” his voice trails off.

      She just nods, “Perhaps.”

      Cullen turns to the group in the hall, “Inquisition! Follow Chancellor Roderick through the Chantry. Move.”

      Cole helps the Chancellor to his feet and they begin their walk.

      “I’ll come with you,” urges Harding, stepping towards Lydia.

      Lydia spins, “No, Harding. I… I don’t want to lose you.”

      “And I don’t want to lose you.”

      Lydia just purses her lips, “You’re our best scout, Harding. If the survivors get lost, they’ll need you to find a path out. I’ll distract this Elder One, while you get everyone to safety.”

        Harding steps forward, shaking her head, “Please, Lydia. I—”

      The Herald’s eyes move to something beside the scout, “Krem, take care of her.”

      He nods, face grim.

      Lydia steps towards Harding, engulfing her in a hug, “Promise me you’ll get everyone to safety?”

      Harding sighs, tightening the hug, “I promise, Lydia. And promise me you’ll make it back alive?”

      The Herald just grins, “Of course.”

      And so she watches Lydia leave, Cassandra, Sera and Dorian in tow. Harding can’t help but wonder if that’s the last time she will see them.

      No. She can’t think like that.

      The Chantry doors shut behind the group and Harding is left staring at the oak doors, wishing they’ll come back.

      Someone gently holds her shoulder, urging her away from the doors. It’s Krem.

      “Come on, Lace,” his voice is gentle. “We need to get moving.”

      She just nods, her jaw clenched shut. How is she meant to help save the world if she can’t even help the Herald?

.

.

.

.

 

The pilgrim’s trail is accessible through the dungeons and it takes a slow ten minutes to get everyone to the top of the tree line, away from the advancing army.

      Harding stands at the top of a cliff, looming above Haven. They stand a couple of miles from the village, but she can see it—drowning in a sea of red. She tells herself Lydia and the others will be fine, but the fluttering drop of dread begins to spread through her, fingers shaking and heart beating faster.

      Someone wraps a cloak around her and she turns to see Krem, wrapped in his own fur-lined cloak, “We better keep moving.”

      She blinks and nods. There’s nothing else she can do. She did what she promised, now Lydia has to do the same.

      And so Harding walks beside Krem, a solid form against hers. And she must admit, she’s glad to have him here. It is getting colder the further they travel into the mountains.

      With one last glance at Haven, she clasps the cloak around her neck and keeps close to Krem, even when Sera, Cassandra and Dorian come rushing up to the retreating group, telling of explosions and the Herald telling them to retreat without. She stays close to him even when they are forced to continue on into the night.

      Even when there is no sign of Lydia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Lydia, facing off to the Elder One by herself. And poor Harding for having to watch her comrade die. But alas, the story must continue. Thank you for your kudos and support, you guys are too kind!! As always, thank you for reading and stay groovy!


	8. Dawn Will Come

Krem sits next to the fire, huddled next to Dalish and Stitches. A bowl is clutched in both of his hands, empty. The meal was a scoop of porridge and a piece of warm bread—hardly a meal—but supplies are running dangerously low at the moment. And Maker knows when they’re going to get time to hunt.

      The Herald had been found a few hours ago, thankfully breathing, but now she stands with Solas, talking quietly with him, just outside the camp. She’s battered and bruised, but alright. Krem can’t hear what they’re saying, but is seems as though Lydia agrees.

      He looks around the camp. This whole camp is makeshift until they figure out where they are. All Krem knows is they’re somewhere with seemingly endless snow. The winds have died down now, but hell, it’s still cold.

      Multiple bonfires burn throughout the camp, the survivors huddled together for warmth. Krem doesn’t want to even know how many were killed in the attack. It all happened so fast. Next thing he knew, they were setting up camp in a small valley—without the Herald. Hardly any words had been spoken, but the Chancellor knew the way through the pilgrim’s trail and he led them to safety, though gravely wounded—eventually fatal.

      It had been a few hours after settling down, that there had been shouting and word spread that they found the Herald… well, she found them.

      The song has given him new hope. The Mother Giselle had started singing and soon, the survivors joined in. Krem didn’t know the lyrics, but he hummed to the tune. The Dawn Will Come. A nice sentiment, considering there’s still half a night left.

      And it is getting colder, even with the fires. He’s just glad the Chargers all made it in one piece. Sure, there are wounds and scratches, but nothing serious.

      After the Chargers brag to each other about who had the worse looking wound (which had been awarded to Dalish for a massive scratch down her thigh), Krem excuses himself from the group.

      As he walks through the camp, he spots the infirmary. Too many wounded are cramped together, with only a few healers and nurses to look after them. He doesn’t see anyone he knows lying in one of the beds.

      Cullen had given each person a certain tent, sharing with two other people. Luckily when they fled Haven, the spare supplies had been in the Chantry and weren’t destroyed from the fighting.

      When Krem reaches his tent, he can’t help but notice how small it is. He sighs, a hand running through his hair. Luckily he’s not sharing with Bull.

      Dorian had that honor.

      “Krem?” comes a voice. Small and fragile, croaky from the cold. But he knows the owner.

      He turns, “Lace. How are you feeling?”

      “I’m… fine,” she says with a nod. “I just thought I’d come and thank you.”

      His brow furrows.

      She clears her throat, “For pushing me along tonight. I was… kind of in a daze.”

      His face softens, “Harding, you saw your friends leave the safety of the Chantry to go fight a dragon and an army. You didn’t know if you were going to ever see them again. I completely understand.”

      “But I put people’s lives at risk. If we had gotten lost, I was in no state to dig us out. I just… felt so helpless.”

      Krem licks his lips. She had seem helpless at the time—she looked defeated when Lydia and Cassandra left.

      Two good friends, leaving Harding behind, an agonizing wait to see if they would survive. And he was going to put his arms around her, to hold her close. But he hadn’t. Whether it was because he was a coward or because he was scared himself, he still doesn’t know. Seeing her so small against the crushing dread of waiting had almost broke him. She didn’t deserve it.

      But he knows the feeling. The thoughts that plague your mind, wondering when those you love will be safe.

      “You did all you could,” he says.

      But she looks away, “And people still died. I saw…” her voice cracks, “I saw a good colleague pass away. He looked at me as he died… I was the last person he saw. Not his family… or lover or friends. We hardly knew each other.”

      Krem swallows and this time he pushes the fears down, arms wrapping around her short frame, “Harding, you can’t blame yourself for what happened. None of us saw it coming and hell, we weren’t ready—we were way out of our league.”

      He feels her relax into the embrace, her head against his chest—though covered in his armour.

      Krem continues, “And, if it gives you any hope… He saw your face—a friendly face. Not the face of those red Templars. That would have put him to rest.”

      She pulls away slightly from his chest, eyes coming to meet his. They’re glassy, and her jaw is clenched tight. She’s trying to stay strong.

      Harding nods, “You’re right, Krem. Thank you.”

      “We just have to make sure the people we lost didn’t die for nothing.”

      She nods, “At least Lydia’s alright. I don’t know what would have happened if we never found her.”

      “We would be in a world of trouble.”

      “I guess we already are,” says Harding. “But… you’re right. We better move on. Build from it.”

      He smiles, trying not to think about how warm she feels in this embrace. He own hands are wrapped around her waist and he relishes in the feeling. “We’ll get the Elder One, don’t you worry about that.”

      She smiles at that, pulling away from his embrace, but keeping a gloved hand on his arm, “Yeah. I’ll stick an arrow up his ass.”

      “Oh?” Krem raises an eyebrow. “You get feisty when you’re angry.”

      A hand swipes through her messy hair, her bun still twisted at the back of her head, “Only because I want my revenge.”

      He chuckles, “I won’t stand in your way then.”

      “Good, it might get ugly.”

      They both laugh softly.

      But Harding straightens, pulling her hand away, “I… ah… better let you go. I didn’t realise you were heading in for the night.”

      Krem has almost forgotten that he was heading to bed. He narrows his eyes, “How dare you distract me from my sleep. You’ll pay for what you’ve done.”

      Harding just smiles, “I look forward to it.”

      He’s taken aback by her statement. But he grins, “Well, until then.”

      “Yes, until then,” she nods, beginning to back away to leave him.

      “Good night, Lace. Just try and get some sleep, alright?”

      “Yes sir,” she says, a sparkle in her eye. But they turn hard, “I will. You too Krem. I saw you fighting just as hard.”

      He gives her one last smile before retreating into his tent. A bedroll had been spread out for him—one of three.

      And so he unbuckles his armour, leaving it to pile up on the floor. As he settles into the warm furs, he can’t help but smile.

      She felt so warm against his own body, her hands coming to his back.

      Krem groans inwardly. He does have a soft spot for cute girls with freckles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter this time, but I hope you like it!! Krem sure is starting to fall for Lace!! Bless his cotton socks.


	9. Dragon Dung

Lydia bolts out in front of Harding, snow flicking up with every step “Last one to the top of the hill is dragon dung!”

      She runs as fast as she can in the ankle deep snow, but when her foot snags on rock buried underneath the white snow, her whole body jerks.

      With a scream, the Herald falls bodily into the snow, face first. A puff of snow shoots into the air when she hits the ground.

      Sera cracks up in laughter, her voice echoing throughout the mountain range, “Good one, Lyds! Do it again.”

      Harding rushes ahead, coming to kneel next to Lydia. She pats the woman’s back, “Are you alright, Lydia?”

      A muffled, “Yes,” comes from the Herald. “My plan backfired.”

      Harding grins, looking back towards the speechless group—all of Lydia’s inner circle, plus the Chargers, “She’s alright!”

      Varric cheers, “There ya go. Stumbles is stumbling again.”

      Lydia sits up, though her black shoulder-length hair and armour is caked with snow, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever Varric.” But she grins at Harding, “Was it a good fall?”

      Harding purses her lips, “I’d say a 6 out of 10. Not your best, but not your worse.” The dwarf clasps Lydia’s hand, pulling the woman to her feet.

      Cassandra just shakes her head, “You know running makes you trip.”

      “Not all the time,” Lydia argues.

      “Ankle-deep snow will do it to you, though,” says Krem.

      “At least Krem gets me. He understands certain environmental factors are the cause of my tripping.” says Lydia.

      “Yeah, or the fact that you have no balance,” retorts Varric.

      “No one asked you, dwarf,” she says, stalking towards the hill. She stops halfway up, “You know the race is still on.”

      And Harding bolts up the hill, the others following in a stumbling group. Lighter on her feet, Harding manages to rush past the others, coming close to Lydia.

      Lydia reaches the top first, Harding at a close second. They both laugh to each other, giggling about winning.

      But they stop, the competition forgotten for a moment, even as the rest of the group catch up.

      They stand on top of a cliff face, the mountain melting away to reveal a valley below them. The mountain range around them— the Frostback Mountains—has been split apart, as if the very hand of the Maker pulled them so. A frozen river snakes its way through the parted mountains, a forest of white-tipped trees surrounding it. And the morning sun, rising above the mountains, casts an orange light over the whole landscape.

      The view takes Harding’s breath away.

      “That’s what I’m talking about,” says Krem. He stands next to Harding, eyes set on the view. “This is the Thedas I know.”

      Lydia grins, “Someone paint this quickly.”

      “Sure, I’ll just get my paints and canvas out from my ass, shall I?” asks Varric.

      Bull just laughs, “The canvas would be bigger than you, dwarf.”

      “Yeah, yeah. Shut it, Tiny.”

      Krem just grins, “Chief, hush now. There are other dwarves present.” He glances at Harding.

      The scout just grins, “I have heard good things come in small packages.”

      “Yeah, remember she may look small, but she’ll stab you in the ass,” reminds Lydia, sending a grin to Harding.

      “I _am_ a perfect height,” grins Harding.

      She’ll admit she loves the teasing. They all do it to each other—no one is safe. But, it’s always in good faith and no one takes it too far.

      Bull bellows a laugh, “I like this one. You’ve got a sassy mouth, Lace.”

      “I never thought you’d say sassy, Bull,” says Lydia.

      Bull just chuckles.

      Varric grins, “There’s always a first for everything.”

      “Yes and I got to the top of this hill first,” says Lydia. “So I win. Cassandra you’re the dragon dung ‘cause you walked.”

      Cassandra just glares at Lydia, “Ugh.”

.

.

.

.

 

The Inquisition have a break on the cliff face, everyone taking in the view, while they eat breakfast. It had been an early start this morning, to get as much ground between them and Haven. And now with an end in view: Solas’ promise of a fortress long ago abandoned in the heart of the mountains, everyone’s beginning to perk up.

      The fallen will be honoured in a ceremony once everyone has settled down at the fortress and the Inquisition will begin to rebuild itself.

      Krem squats next to a supply box, fixing his broken buckles along his armour. He eats a roll of bread as he works.

      Harding glances around before walking towards him, “Mind if I join in?”

      He looks up and a smile spreads across his face, “Your armour ruined as well?”

      She points to the chest plate she holds in her hand. The Inquisition symbol on the front has been scorched and the leather buckles are broken, “Got hit by a ball of magic. I’ll need Harrit to reshape it when we get to… wherever we’re going, but I know how to fix a broken buckle.”

      Krem nods, “I think everyone’s in need of new armour.” He pats the ground next to him, urging Harding to sit with him.

      She comes to sit down next to Krem and begins working on her buckles. They’re silent for a few seconds.

      “You… ah… did you have a good sleep?” she asks.

      He blinks, “Well, Rocky snored the whole night and Stitches couldn’t lie still.” He smiles, “A wonderful night, if you ask me.”

      She laughs, looks away from him. Those brown eyes are wonderful… but he always makes her shy. She usually isn’t this bad—giggling like a little girl and blushing profusely. It’s pathetic.

      Harding continues to fix the buckles on her armour, too embarrassed to say anything. Her words will just get jumbled up anyway.

      She struggles with her last buckle, the leather too tough to cut through. She saws at it, but the leather just won’t cut.

      “Here, let me help you with that,” there’s a solid form at her side and she looks up to see Krem kneeling beside her. He grins at her, “You just need a bit of muscle.”

      “Oh, I suppose that’s on that list of yours?” she retorts.

      “Strength and a good set of these,” he flexes his arm and she’s quite impressed with those muscles.

      But, she tries to act smug, “Yeah, yeah. Get on with it.”

      She hands him the buckle and he sets to work. She watches him out of the corner of her eye, seeing the way his tongue sticks out when he squints. Patching up her armour seems easy for him.

      “How’d… you learn to do that?” she asks. “Tailoring, I mean.”

       He looks up, swallows deeply, “Well… my father was a tailor back in Tevinter. Made all sorts of clothes. He taught me some things.” He smiles, “Just like your mother, hey? She’s a seamstress.”

      Harding’s taken aback. He remembers that?

      “She would be delighted to know you sew,” says Harding. “Much to my mother’s disappointment, I never got the hang of it.”

      He looks at the buckle, hardly stitched well, “I gathered.” There’s a teasing tone to his voice and a sparkle in his eye.

      She nudges him with a scoff, “Oh come on, I’m not _that_ bad.”

      Krem just chuckles. He finishes with the buckle, making sure the stitches will hold. Krem swallows, “You know, I make little stuffed nugs with wings. Very cute if you ask me.”

      Harding can’t help but grin, “I love nugs!”

      He looks down, a smile on his lips, “I’ll have to make you one then.”  

      She blinks and feels the warmth on her cheeks, “That… that’s very kind of you.”

      “Anything for you,” he says. But he quickly clears his throat, “Plus, who doesn’t want a flying nug? We can throw them at people.”

      She smiles, opening her mouth to say something.

      But Krem stands when Bull comes over.

      The Qunari nods, “We’re heading out in five. I want you to lead a patrol to scout behind us. Make sure we aren’t being followed.”

      Krem nods, glances at Harding, “I’ll… I’ll see you later today?”

      “You bet,” she says with a nod.

      He seems to hesitate before bundling up his armour, grabbing his maul and moving off to find the rest of the Chargers. He had finished working on Harding’s buckles just before, so she stands as well, gathering her things.

      Iron Bull just chuckles, “You really handled yourself back there.”

      She looks up at him, “Haven? Oh, I was just doing my job.”

      “And you did a good one at that,” he says.

      She can’t help but flush from the compliment, “Thank you. I didn’t see you too often, but when I did, you were bashing someone’s skull in.”

      He booms a laugh, “Yep! Someone’s gotta do the dirty work.”

      She laughs at that.

      Bull just pats her shoulder, “We better get moving. Leliana wants to reach that fortress before sun down. And whatever your boss says, we do. I don’t want to see what happens when you get on her dark side.”

      Harding grins, “I make sure that never happens.”

      “Good. You’re a good person, Lace,” he says with a nod.

      “You too, Bull. You’d be sorely missed if Leliana decided she didn’t like you.”

      He chuckles.

      “Guess we better be off then.” She gathers her armour. But she can’t help looking back to where Krem had left.

      Bull’s hand squeezes her shoulder, “He’ll be fine. He’s dealt with more shit than you realise.”

      But she does realise. Had realised for a while now. It had been almost three months since they met and all she wants to do is get to know him better. To hear his story and his life in Tevinter and beyond. How he got here, of all places.

      She sucks in her breath.

      She had promised herself to not get caught up in romantic affairs while working for the Inquisition—too dangerous, too painful.

      But one thing she knows for certain: she may be starting to fall for Krem.

      And it feels dangerous, yet oh so wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay my friends, but I should be back in full swing soon, once uni's over for a break. But, our dear children are headed to Skyhold and their journey will continue from there!!


	10. A Fixer Upper

The fortress is ancient, and broken, and crumbling and… there is a hole in Harding’s roof. She sighs, hands on hips as she takes in her new quarters.

      It’s certainly a bit of a fixer upper. But, with a bit of renovating, she’s sure her quarters will look as good as new.

      Placing her pack on the ground, she heads outside, to see the rest of the moving progress. They’ve been shifting things around all day, trying to clean the fortress up and to make it domesticated again.

      She finds herself in the courtyard, with various tents set up to protect supplies from the rain. The courtyard is buzzing with activity as people move to their chores. Unfortunately Harding had been given the job of looking after the fortress’ defenses and siege equipment. Quite a big task for her, but she’s willing to give it a go.

      Moving to the bailey, she heads for the stables. Master Dennet had secured horses in the Hinterlands and brought them straight here. Harding has to weave her way through the tents set up for soldiers and scouts. This seems to be the busiest part of Skyhold until everything is sorted and construction is finished.

      She spots Krem, working with Bull and Blackwall to lift a fallen slab of bricks. He grunts in the effort, muscles straining from his sleeveless tunic. He’s drenched in sweat and dirt as they move the slab to the rubbish pile.

      That’s when she also notices two girls watching him from the stairs. They must be from the kitchens—both wearing dirty, white aprons and grey dresses, their hair curled back into a net.

      Krem sees them and offers them a smile. The girls giggle and cower away in shyness, hiding behind their trays of food.

      Harding looks down, an odd feeling in her stomach.

      “Ah, Harding, you’re here,” comes a voice. Leliana approaches the dwarf, hood up and hands clasped behind her back. “You know what to do, yes?”

      “I’ll get those cross bows up in no time.” she says with a nod, hands on hips. “I’m all ready, Leliana.”

      “Good,” the spymaster says. “I want you to work with the Chargers. They’ll help with ideal places to put each weapon.”

      “Sounds good,” she says.

      Bull waltzes over, “Ready to go, Harding? We’ll start with the bridge. Best defense is to make sure our enemy can’t even get to Skyhold.”

       He turns, nodding to Leliana, before moving off towards the fortress’ main gates, “Krem get your ass over here. We’re planting weapons.”

      Krem dusts his hands off, “You sure you can handle that, chief?”

      “Only if you shout me a beer after.”

      “Fine,” he says with a laugh, walking over to them. “Let’s get to work.”

.

.

.

.

 

Harding looks out over the battlements, the final crossbow snapping into place. Each weapon has been placed in specific locations along the battlements that will allow for a good offence, if the Inquisition is ever attacked.

      The crossbows themselves are massive—compared to Varric’s Bianca. Each is made from metal, and are bigger than Harding, their bolts almost as long as Krem. A formidable weapon against enemy siege weapons.   
      The sun is beginning to set, its rays spreading across the mountains. A good day’s work, Harding thinks.

      A nice warm dinner is on order.

      She looks over to see Bull push Krem near the edge of the battlements, pulling him back at the last second so his second lieutenant doesn’t go flying over the edge. She can hear Bull’s cackle.

      She thinks about how far they’ve come. All of them. Lydia was caught up in a conspiracy—accused of destroying the Conclave and the Divine with it. The Chargers were mercenaries living the life of hired men. No one would have thought they’d be here—have their own fortress to call home.

      And what of her? She was a simple farm girl, wanting more in her life. And she sure as hell got that. Being Head Scout certainly has its adventures.

      “You’ve got that look,” comes a voice, interrupting her thoughts.

      She turns to see Krem, “That look?”

      “Yeah, you’re thinking about something,” says Krem. “You get that sparkle in your eye and you purse your lips.”

      She laughs, “I didn’t realise you watched me that closely.”

      He swallows, “Yeah, now that you say that, I do sound a little creepy.”

      “Not at all,” she says. “It’s oddly caring of you.”

      He just chuckles, scratching the back of his head.

      “We’ve come far,” she says. Blinks, backtracks what she just said, “The Inquisition, I mean. That’s what I was thinking about.”

      Krem smiles, eyes moving to the sunset, “Considering only three months ago the Inquisition was nothing.” A smirk moves across his lips, “That must have been because the Chargers weren’t around to help out then.”

      “Ah, yes. That must be it,” smirks Harding.

       “You know. I quite like where we are now. The Breach is stable, the mages haven’t gone wacko and… well, I get to set up defenses with you.”

      Harding coughs, “Well, I didn’t do much.”

      “You did more than Bull, let’s be honest,” he says with a laugh. “That big oaf.” They watch him as he flexes his muscles for a smiling Dorian. The Qunari doesn’t wear a shirt and when Lydia walks past, he engulfs her in a hug, yelling something about sweaty armpits.

      “I do wonder, does he ever wear a shirt?”

      Krem snorts, “No. Never. He likes to show off his pillowy man-bossoms.”

      Harding barks a laugh and it echoes throughout the snowy valley, “That’s brilliant.”

      He just shrugs, “Ah, well, you know. I guess I’ll have to add hilarious to that list of mine.”

      “It’s getting pretty long now,” she says, her eyebrow raising.

      He just flexes an arm, “It is tough being a Charger. So many responsibilities.”

      “Uh-huh.”

      “Don’t _uh-huh_ me, it’s the truth and you know it.”

      She just grins.

      He steps closer, a subtle move, but Harding’s eyes hone in on the movement. She tries not to lean into his warm body, instead looking out over to the sunset.

      Krem’s hand comes to her back, “You heading for dinner?”

      “Of course,” she says. “Can’t go to bed without it. I hear it’s goat stew tonight, mixed with potatoes and turnips. My mother used to make the best turnip-goat stew—still does, I mean, I just haven’t had it since I’ve been with the Inquisition.” She blinks, realising she’s rambling again. But with his hand on her back, her brain’s gone into shock. And the way he looks at her just makes her want to keep talking.

      She looks at him, clearing her throat, “Yay for goat stew.”

      He just laughs, brown eyes sparkling, “I’ll have to taste this turnip-goat stew. If your cooking’s anything to go by, it should be pretty good.”

      “Ah, well, that’s one thing I got the hang of from my mother. Forget sewing, cooking is so much easier.”

      Krem grins, “I remember my father used to cook fish. A platter of garlic, grapes, rosemary and olives, with the fish on top. Always a big fish. The fishermen in Tevinter are always selling the biggest fish they can, trying to outdo their neighbor. Blood magic if you ask me.” The grin tells Harding he’s joking.

      “Sound delicious. Blood magic aside.”

      “It was,” he says. They lapse into silence, before Krem’s hand slips from her back, “I guess we better get some of that goat stew.”

      “I’d like that,” says Harding.

      And so the two of them head off towards the keep and Harding can’t get those brown eyes from her mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update guys, but as always I hope you enjoyed!! Very cheesy this chapter, but then again, every chapter is cheesy!


	11. Wicked Grace

Krem’s usual routine for days off is coming to an end. His day started with a training session with Cassandra in the morning, then a quick hunt around the mountain range surrounding Skyhold. Then in the late afternoon, he catches up with the Chargers over a few drinks. And of course, the Inquisition’s weekly game in the tavern.

      The Inquisitor had thought of it—in the middle of the week, her closest friends would take on a game of Wicked Grace, or some game of the sort.

      It’s only the start of the week, so still a few days before their weekly game, but he heads into the tavern anyway. He’s sure there will be someone who needs a drink.

      Pushing the door open, he glances around the tavern. It’s only early afternoon, so many will still be working, but there are a few patrons.

      The tavern maid walks around, picking up empty tankards. She smiles at him as he steps inside. He smiles back and hangs his cloak up on one of the hooks.

      Eyes sweeping the tavern, he instantly locks onto Harding, her small frame hunched over the table, hands wrapped around a mug of hot cocoa. He moves over to her, heart beating faster. It’s an instant thing. When he sees her, he’s instantly drawn to her.

      She looks up at his approach and a smile spreads across her face, “Krem. I was wondering when you’d show up.”

      “Ah, you know, someone as good looking as me takes his time,” he slips into the wooden booth across from Harding. On the table is a deck of Wicked Grace cards, spread out. He looks at Harding, “You playing by yourself?”

      She blushes, looking away, “No.” But her shoulders sag, “Maker, yes. I was trying to teach myself.”

      He blinks, “You don’t know how to play?”

      “I know the general rules, but when it comes to gambling and strategy, I’m as hopeless as a nug in water.”

      He snorts at that, “I gather nugs can’t swim.”

      “They sink straight to the bottom like rocks. Never got the hang of paddling.”

      Krem loves the random things she says—always leaves him wondering what she’s going to say next.

      He scrapes all the cards towards him and shuffles them into a neat pile, “Alright then. You’ve come to the right guy.”

      She raises an eyebrow, “Well it was _you_ that came.” Her eyes widen for a fraction of a second, “To me. You came to me. Walked.”

      Krem can’t help but chuckle, “Still, you’re talking to the right guy. I know a thing or two about Wicked Grace.”

      Her back straightens, “Really?”

      Krem nods, shifting to be more comfortable, “I’ll teach you a few things so you’ll be right for the next game.”

      He begins shuffling the deck, fingers moving fast and deals the cards. Soon Harding and Krem both have a pile of seven cards.

      Fanning his cards out, Krem examines his hand. A few good cards to get him started. Harding sucks her lip between her teeth, eyes darting over her cards.

      But they flick to him, “Ah, what are we going to bet?” She holds out her coin purse.

      Krem places a hand atop hers, gently pushing her hands back towards her, “Don’t be silly.” He glances around, trying to figure out what to bet with. His eyes move back to her and he can’t help the grin that spreads across his face, “I hear clothes are a good bet.”

      A blush spreads across her face, but he can see the spark in her eye, “My armour is several layers thick. I would take too many rounds for you to win.”

      “Oh really,” he points to the various buckles and straps along his chest plate. At least five buckles hold just one piece of armour, “Try Tevinter armour.”

      “Well, I know a few things about Wicked Grace. Josephine taught me one trick I can use, so I’d say I’ve already gotten you out of your armour.” Her grin fades after a couple of heartbeats and she leans back, “Ah, I mean, if we were betting clothes, that is. Which, we aren’t… I mean, unless you want to. Probably not though. There are people around and not to mention we’re in the tavern.” Harding’s blushing even more, looking down at her cards.

        Krem laughs, a chortle that echoes through the tavern. He’s surprised by it, but it feels good. Harding’s just so…

      “You’re so adorable,” he says, between laughs.

      She just watches him, her cheeks red, “I can shoot an arrow right between your eyes. Remember that next time you call me adorable.”

      “Adorable, yet deadly. I like it.”

      A flash of skirts and black hair distracts him from what he’s about to say. When he looks up, the tavern maid stands at their table, looking at him, “Can I get you something to drink? To eat?”

      Krem looks at Harding, “You want another hot cocoa?”

      She looks at her empty mug, “Yes please.”

      “Just two more then,” says Krem.

      The tavern maid nods, leaning down slightly as she writes the order on a piece of parchment.

      Her corset seems a little tight, Krem thinks. And, Maker, quite revealing.

      He swallows, glancing at Harding, who’s frowning into her cards.

      The tavern maid looks up with a smile, “Anything else?”

      “Could we please get a warm loaf of bread?” asks Harding. “And two blocks of chocolate.”

      Krem raises an eyebrow, sending a confused look to Harding. But she’s looking at her cards again.  

      “Thank you, ma’am,” says Krem.

      The tavern maid straightens, “Oh, you can call me Theresa.” She smiles again and moves away in a swirl of skirts.

      Krem looks back at Harding, to see the dwarf staring at her empty mug, fingers aimlessly tapping at the table.

      “Two blocks of chocolate?” he asks.

      She blinks from her gaze and looks at him, “I thought we could bet pieces of chocolate… instead of clothing.”

      He smirks, “Oh, I like the sound of that.”

      They wait for Theresa to come back, chocolate, bread and hot cocoa on a tray.

      She looks at Krem as she places the food on the table, “Playing a bit of Wicked Grace, are you?”

      “Practicing,” says Krem. “Harding here hates losing.”

      Harding smiles, says thank you when Theresa places her hot cocoa near her.

      Theresa doesn’t even bat an eyelid, eyes still on Krem, “Well, I hear you’re quite the champion, Cremisius.”

      He flinches at his full name. He hasn’t told her his name before.

      “The Iron Bull tells me you haven’t lost a game yet. That’s quite an achievement,” she wiggles her eyebrows, leaning towards him slightly, “You’ll have to show me how good you are one night.” And with that, she waltzes away, leaving silence in her wake.

      Harding blinks, taking a sip of her hot cocoa.

      Krem just clears his throat and takes a slice of warm bread, “So. How much chocolate are you betting?”

      Harding looks at him, “Well, I, ah, don’t really know.”

      Krem leans towards her, breaking a few pieces of chocolate from the block, “Well, let’s see how good your hand is…”

.

.

.

.

 

Krem spends hours helping Harding gain a better understanding for the game. He doesn’t mind at all. And it’s quite fun, him as hilarious as he is.

      Harding picks up the card and her shoulders sag. Placing the Angel of Death on the table, Krem grins.

      Finally.

      Angel of Death means cards down and to see who won. Not to mention, it’s the last hand of the night.

      Harding sighs, setting her cards out on the table. Krem does the same.

      They both look at their cards. Harding has three sets of matching cards and Krem has two.

      Another win for her.

      She grins, “Either I’m getting better, or you’re going easy on me.”

      Krem feigns ignorance, “I would never.” Sure, he may have gone a little easy, but that’s only because he loves her face when she wins.

      By the end of the night, Krem has gained most of the chocolate, but Harding’s pretty close. She’s certainly got a knack for the game, even if she denies it—they had to order more chocolate from Theresa.

      He knows the tavern maid is trying her luck with him, and he must admit he feels honoured. But, with Harding sitting with him, she’s really the only person he’s giving his full attention to.

      And Harding knows of Theresa’s flirting—he can see her shift in her seat every time Theresa comes over. But she never says anything about it.

      They pack up for the night, both agreeing to get some sleep. Krem only just realises that half the night’s gone—he was so caught up with Harding that he hadn’t been keeping track of time.

      As they move towards the door, Theresa walks up to them, “Have a good night.” A wink at Krem.

      Krem smiles back and moves outside along with Harding.

      The grass is damp with dew, and fires burn in the braziers placed around Skyhold. Guards walk the battlements on their patrols for the night.

      The dwarf turns to Krem, arms wrapping around herself, mist swirling with each breath she takes, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

      Krem nods, “I hope so.”

      She places a hand on his arm, “Thanks for the help. Next time, I’m going to win all the chocolate.”

      Krem laughs, “Oh, keep dreaming, girl.”

      They lapse into a silence and Krem puts a hand against Harding’s back, leading her into the keep.

      “You assigned anywhere tomorrow?” he asks as they move up the stairs.

      “No, Leliana’s given me a break for a few days. Thank the Maker.”

      Krem grins, “Good. There’s a few people I want you to meet.”

      She looks at him, “Who?”  
      “Well, if I told you, I’d have to kill you,” he says, a spark in his eye.

      Harding just nudges him with a scoff.

      “Just meet me at the tavern after dinner. Get ready for a few drinks.”

      “I’m always ready for a few drinks,” she says. “A head scout is ready for everything.”

      “Good to hear.”

      They stop in the Great Hall—both knowing this is where they split up to go to their separate chambers.

      Harding smiles, “Sleep tight. Don’t let the nugs bite.” She moves towards the door, but stops, turns back. In a blink, she steps back towards Krem, rises on the tip of her toes and presses her lips against his cheek.

      Just as quick as it happens, she pulls back and heads towards the door, pushing it open. Krem watches her, a hand coming to his cheek.

      The scout sends him a shy smile before closing the door behind her.

      And Krem’s heart explodes. He can’t stop grinning, hand staying on his cheek. He fist pumps the air, spinning on the spot as he screams in silent victory.

      Lace Harding just kissed him on the cheek.

      Oh boy, Iron Bull has to hear about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay!! Relationship development! I'm so sorry guys, I love a good slow burn, so Krem and Harding will still be taking things slow :)
> 
> As always, sorry for the late upload, life kinda got in the way, not to mention a bit of writer's block! But, hopefully I shall be back into the swing of things soon!! Stay safe my children.


	12. The Chargers

“Hey, don’t worry. I promise they won’t bite,” he says, pulling her towards the tavern, his hand warm against her tunic.

      Harding grins, “That’s reassuring.”

      Krem just gives her that heart-stopping smile, “Come on, you promised.”

      She holds her hands up in peace, “Hey, I never said I didn’t want to go. I just… get nervous around meeting new people.”

      Krem stops, giving her a look, “They already love how adorable you are.”

      Harding glares at him.

      “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just saying what they told me.” He gives her that smile again and she can’t help but notice how her heart flutters. And how she doesn’t actually mind him calling her adorable. She’ll suffer through it if it means she gets to see him smile like that. To see him smile at _her_ like that.

      Harding calms her heart and sighs, “Let’s go.”

      Krem chuckles in triumph and begins moving towards the tavern, Harding at his side. It’s late afternoon and Skyhold is buzzing with activity.

      But Harding glances at Krem, whose eyes are on the tavern.

      She can’t help but think about how she had kissed him on the cheek last night. A bold and dangerous move on her part—it was an impulse move and she could feel the warmth on her cheeks as she did it. Even now her cheeks burn just thinking about it. She doesn’t exactly know what came over her, but it felt right. She wanted him to know that they were… close. That she was there for him if he ever needed her.

      Maybe the small peck on the cheek didn’t really tell him that, but she hopes it told him something.

      They head into the tavern, Krem holding the door open for her.

      Sitting at one of the tables are the Chargers—all chatting and laughing, drinking tankards of ale together.

      Krem wants her to meet them, to hang with them for the night. To share stories and to just have a few drinks. And Harding is a little nervous—sure, she’s fought beside the Chargers before and has been on scouting missions with Krem and Iron Bull before, but she hasn’t actually sat down and gotten to know them all.

      Krem ushers Harding towards the Chargers with a grin, his warm hand against her back, “I hope you saved us a seat.”

      Iron Bull laughs, “Of course we did.” He pats the seat next to him, and Harding slides into the booth, nestled between Krem and Bull.

      The Chargers turn to look at her and a hushed silence falls on the group.

      Harding swallows, raises a hand in greeting, “Good evening.”

      There is silence as the group takes her in—this new-comer, this intruder. But she doesn’t see mistrust or judgment, she sees curiosity. She’s just as curious of them as they are of her. They have lived different lives to her and she wants to know more about them. 

      Rocky slams a tankard down in front of Harding, “Good to see another dwarf.” He grins at her, moustache twitching against his lip. “It gets lonely down here.”

      “I’m sure we could use another archer,” says Dalish.

      “Yeah, cause that really long, glowing stick of yours is definitely a bow,” teases Krem.

      Harding’s fought beside Dalish long enough to know her weapon is definitely not a glowing bow.

      The Chargers all hoot, clashing their tankards together in cheers. Harding grins at them, tries to stay confident.

      “I hope you’re ready for some drinks, Harding,” says Bull. He holds up his tankard, “Though I hear dwarves can hold their liquor just fine.”   

      The Qunari thumps his tankard against Harding’s when she holds it up. She nods, “Don’t worry. Dwarves have thick skin. We can handle just about anything.”

      Krem chuckles beside her, “We’ll have to see about that.

 

.

.

.

.

 

The Chargers have some of the best stories to tell—amazing fights, dashing rescues and of course, near-death experiences. Rocky had one of the best stories: how he blew up a carriage full of candy and it was raining candy for the following five minutes.

      An experience Harding wish she saw.

      But she’s hardly said a word tonight, always just listening and sipping her drink. They joke to one another, but Harding can tell most are inside jokes the group share. And Krem is so confident, always telling the jokes, or teasing the others. Harding’s glad to see him so happy with these people. He’s finally found his family—a family that accepts him no matter what.

      And she can tell just how much of a family this group has become. These mismatched people joined together to bring good to the world. Much like what the Inquisition has become.

      Harding takes another sip of her drink, thinking of calling it quits for the night, when the Chargers all turn to her.

      She blinks, swallowing her ale, “Pardon?” Her voice is small. Why are they looking at her like that? Iron Bull’s grinning though and so is Skinner.

      Krem nudges her, “Tell them about the dragon you saw.”

      She clears her throat, suddenly very self-conscious, “Well. We spotted it on the Storm Coast.”

      “Storm Coast! That’s so close,” breathes Skinner.

      “How big was it?” asks Bull.

      She straightens, trying to think, “I couldn’t get a good reading on it. We were pretty far away from it, but I’d say it was bigger than three horses.”

      Krem grins at her, “Bull loves dragons. An unnatural obsession if you ask me. He’s gotten some of us into the idea of fighting one though.” He makes his point by looking at Skinner—who’s just as wide-eyed as Iron Bull.

      “What was it doing?” Skinner asks.

      “Flying? Eating? Fucking?” asks Bull.

      Harding splutters, “It was fighting a giant.”

      The Chargers make a collective noise, leaning in closer to hear her story.

      “I was with a small group of my scouts, plus Lydia, Dorian, Varric and Cassandra. We had just dealt with some bandits, when the earth started to shake…”

      She tells them in detail how they had run to the shoreline to find a dragon and a giant locked in a battle to the death. Pebbles sprayed everywhere as the dragon leaped and jumped, flapping its big leathery wings. It would shoot purple fire from its mouth, bathing the giant in light. And of course, the dragon won—it had grabbed the giant by its neck and taken off. The group could only watch in shock as the dragon took off with a giant dangling from its mouth.

      The Chargers stare at her, mouths wide open.

      Bull leans forward, “Have you found it?”

      “We know it’s north-west, hiding out in the rocky cliffs somewhere. Lydia says she’ll need a team to help fight it. It’s been terrorizing the shore-line of Kirkwall, apparently. The Guard-Captain sent Varric a letter speaking of it.”

      Krem grins, “The Chargers could always add dragon hunters on that list of ours.”

      She laughs and Bull slaps her on the back—albeit softer than he normally would, “I told you she was a fighter.”

      “Well, I haven’t actually fought the dragon,” she corrects.

      “But you will,” grins Krem. “I’m sure the chief will agree.”

      Bull rumbles a laugh.  

.

.

.

.

     

It’s midnight when Harding excuses herself from the table. The Chargers are still going strong with the drinks, but Harding can hardly keep her eyes open.

      She had enjoyed the night, loved the company, but Harding can’t help thinking if she would ever be welcomed as part of the group. Krem had made sure she was included in the conversations, but even then she still had a hard time keeping up. And she thinks of Krem—of him after all this, after the Inquisition. He will move on with the Chargers, as they sign up to another company, moving on in the world.

      And she stops. Is that what’s going to happen once this mess is over? Everyone will just move on with their lives and forget about the Inquisition? Surely the Inquisition won’t disband… but what about the others? Lydia’s inner circle had lives before joining the Inquisition and the Chargers are mercenaries, hired to kill. Harding runs a hand through her hair, trying not to think about the future. She has to live her days like they’re her last. Isn’t that what she told Krem when they heard about the dark future?

      “You alright?” comes a voice.

      Harding spins, “Krem, I, ah… thought I forgot something, but I found it.” She holds up her coin purse.

      Krem just watches her, brow furrowed, “You sure you’re alright? I hope the guys back there didn’t bother you.”

      “Bother me? No, gosh Krem, I’m fine,” she says, clutching her coin purse. How could she be so rude, walking out on the Chargers? She mentally kicks herself. Krem was showing her the people he cares for the most, the ones he fights beside. His family. And she was too selfish to respect this night of his—these people he wanted her to meet.

      She moves towards him, “I’m so sorry. I should stay—”

      Krem just chuckles, “You’re tired, Harding. The guys in there can go forever, believe me. I even struggle staying up that long.” He takes the cloak that is draped over Harding’s arm and unfolds it, “I think they like you.”

      “You think so?” she asks, hopeful.

      He nods, wrapping the cloak around Harding’s shoulders, “Especially the dragon story. They love dragons.”

      And he clasps the cloak at her throat, hands rubbing the fabric on her shoulders to smoothen it. 

      “Thank you,” Harding says. But she realises it must sound like she’s thanking him for the cloak. “For inviting me to meet them. It was fun.”

      His eyes light up, “I’m glad you had a good night.”

      They watch each other for a few seconds and Harding can feel herself leaning towards him. Her heart suddenly beats faster and she feels his hand move to her side.

      His face is so close now, a foot apart and moving ever closer.

      “Krem, you coming back?”

      The couple instantly pull away from each other, spinning to the source of the voice. Iron Bull saunters to the doorway and Harding sighs inwardly with relief—Bull hadn’t seen what happened—what might have happened. It’s best to leave it that way. She can feel the heat on her cheeks.

      Krem growls, “Yes chief.” Each word is clipped. “Coming.”

      Harding licks her lips. What exactly had been about to happen? Were they seriously going to…?

      She can hardly believe how close she got. She tries to keep the smile from her face. And his hand on her side is still there, a strong grip on her hip.

      Krem turns to her, “Ah, I better go.” He bites his lip, “I’ll see you in a couple of days? Western Approach, right?”

      “I’ll be there.”

      And he smiles, hand sliding from her side, “I look forward to it.”

      As he leaves, she can’t help but notice how cold her hip feels without his hand there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bless the Chargers!! And Bull's always ruining moments!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed and thank you for all the kudos and comments so far, they're all really appreciated! Stay awesome!


	13. Moving Shadows

The bonfire burns, spending sparks into the night sky. Dorian passes out bowls of warm broth, cooked by Lydia and Varric. It was their turn on the roster, much to Varric’s concern—he argued that dwarves can’t cook anything but roasted nug.

      Harding thanks Dorian when he passes her a bowl and she glances at the broth. Watery brown with chunks of drufflo and vegetables. A pretty good meal, considering they’re out in the middle of nowhere.

      And when she says the middle of nowhere, she means in the middle of the desert in the dead of the night.

      Harding hates the Hissing Wastes.

      Not to mention how it’s freezing at night.

      Lydia twirls the spoon in her hand, watching the broth, “Mm. I think we did a good job, Varric.” But she stops and pulls out a piece of hair. “Ah, everyone check their bowls for hair.”

      “Ugh,” says Cassandra. “It is fine, Lydia. You did a good job.”

      “Thanks Cass,” she says.

      Both Cassandra and Harding sit beside Lydia, the three of them huddled for warmth. They wear cloaks and another one is draped over all three of them for extra heat.

      Harding doesn’t actually mind the food. It’s good compared to other things she’s had to eat while out in the field. Plus it warms her belly.

      She looks across the fire—which the three girls are probably a little too close to—and she sees Krem and the Chargers. Here on an important mission: to take down as many Venatori as possible. Krem hates them, will do anything to stop them and their schemes. Plus, the Chargers are itching for a fight.

      And she can’t help but notice how common it is for the Chargers to come with her on location scouts, to clear the area for the Inquisitor. She doesn’t mind it, but she wants to know who keeps assigning them with her.

      It couldn’t be Leliana, could it?

      But she focuses on her broth when her stomach rumbles for more.

      Everyone here has been so busy destroying Venatori camps that none had noticed the time—it’s ten at night now and they’re only just eating dinner. 

      “Who’s on watch tonight?” asks Lydia. “I bloody hope I’m not. It’s freezing.”

      Dorian grins, “I do believe the roster said Krem and I on duty. Tevinters watching for Tevinters.”

      Lydia glances at Krem, “Yippy for you. Dorian will fall asleep faster than you can say tits.”

      “Well, I’m not asleep yet,” quips Dorian.

      “Not yet.”

      There’s a screech from far away and Harding can feel Lydia stiffen beside her— gripping her spoon tighter. Giant spiders roam the sand dunes at night.

      But they go on eating their meals, almost too tired to care. And too hungry—everyone’s onto their second serving already.

      Harding sees shadows moving around her as the bonfire flickers in the wind. During the day, the Hissing Wastes is a steaming desert, too hot to work and at night, it’s freezing, the temperature dropping as soon as the sun goes down.

      Shadows flick across the sand, moving almost in a dance. She glances at the fire. It’s not moving as rapidly as the shadows it casts.  

      But Harding stiffens.

      Those shadows aren’t from the fire.  

      She looks up in time to see a giant spider leap into the middle of the camp, screeching. Harding throws her bowl of broth at the creature, the meal spilling over the spider’s body. It spins on its eight legs when it lands, snapping its pinchers at the group.

      Lydia’s screaming as Cassandra shields her with her body—the Inquisitor’s eyes shut tight with fear.

      But three more spiders scuttle into the camp and everyone’s screaming orders.

      “Get Lydia to a tent,” screams Dorian. The Inquisitor is shaking her head, defiant as usual.

      But it’s good to see she’s trying to face her fears.

      Harding fires an arrow and it pierces the belly of one of the spiders. It shrieks in pain and stumbles, Varric finishing it off with a well-placed bolt in the head.  

      She continues firing arrows, making sure none go near the still screaming Lydia—who’s clutching her daggers close to her chest. Cassandra swipes at the spiders with her sword, blade ripping through the ones that get too close.

      Harding’s lost count of how many spiders have made their way to the camp—it must be a whole family. She had heard spiders breed like rabbits, hundreds of children to just two parents. A pretty big commitment for the parent spiders.

      Harding snaps out of her thoughts, trying to focus on the task at hand: kill as many spiders as possible.

      Krem’s got his maul, sending the weapon into another spider’s back. With a crunch, the spider’s legs give way and it falls to the ground. Harding must admit, she took a second more to watch Krem, admiring his arms—almost bulging from his short-sleeved tunic.

      It seems he’s not too cold.

      And hey, Harding’s not complaining.

      But he looks straight at her, as if sensing her stare. Before she can look away, his eyes grow wide, mouth opening.

      Something wraps tight around her neck and legs and she’s yanked backwards. Her back hits the sand and she loses her bow.

      Someone’s screaming something, but she can’t hear anything. She’s being dragged through the sand on her back, and she can’t breathe.

      Hands tearing at the material around her throat, she comes to the conclusion that it’s spider web.

      Harding hooks her fingers into the sticky web and pulls, tearing it from her throat. She gasps in air, spinning onto all fours to stop from being dragged. But her legs are stuck together.

      She sits up but, hands coming to her legs, but stops when she sees the spider.  

      Harding was never really afraid of spiders, but being at the mercy of one is certainly something different. Eight eyes stare at her, the spider’s pincers clicking together. Those black eyes just watch her—but it hasn’t attacked yet. Maybe it’s waiting for the others to help drag her back to their nest.

      It’s dark out here, without the light from the fire. She doesn’t know how far she’s been dragged, but her mind is dizzy and her vision blurry from all the sand that sprayed into her face. Her neck throbs and her hands shake.

      The spider moves to the side, legs clicking in the sand.

      Harding tries to lift herself from the daze and gasps for her bow. It’s not near her. She can’t find it.

      Slow movements, so not to provoke the spider as it sizes her up.

      But she doesn’t have time to look for her weapon as the spider leaps towards her.

      A scream echoes across the desert.

      And something comes crashing down onto the spider’s head, sending blood and brains across the sands. Harding’s spared the spray of blood, as the spider’s body falls to the sand, limp.

      She scuttles backwards in the sand, trying to get away from the dead creature, hands frantic through the sand. Her chest heaves up and down as she tries to suck in breath. Was it her who screamed? Was she bitten? No, she’s overreacting.

      A hand comes to her leg, “Hey, it’s alright.” The voice is soft and gentle.

      She looks up to see Krem crouching beside her. “Maker, Krem,” she breathes. “Thank…” there’s a lump in her throat, “Thank you.”

      He gives her a soft smile, patting her leg, “It’s dead now, you can breathe.” Glancing at her legs, the web that was wrapped around them now frayed and broken. He chuckles, “I saw you fall ass over backwards. It was pretty spectacular.”

      Harding can feel the blush on her cheeks, “I was nearly chocked by a spider web.”

      His eyes instantly hone in on her neck, hand gently pushing her head to the side as he examines it, “Shit. I didn’t realise.”

      She just smiles, “It isn’t that bad. It’s just spider web. I run into them all the time. You wouldn’t think spiders would make their webs so close to the ground—cause I’m short and all—but they do. And it’s slightly worrying, because they’re always in the way of someone. They need to be higher, so people can move under them without issue. I can’t imagine how long it takes them to build a web and just have it destroy by some stupid dwarf.” She stops herself from saying more, knowing she’s rambling yet again.

      Krem just watches her, a smirk on his face.

      Clearing her throat, she looks away, “Sorry, rambling again. Sometimes my tongue just gets the best of me.”

      He just laughs, “But you always have something interesting to say.”

      She swallows, “Well, thank you.”

      Krem begins unwrapping the web from her legs, ripping off the already broken material. Harding sets about brushing the sand from her armour and soon, she’s up on her feet, checking her quiver. She lost a few arrows when she got dragged through the sand and her bow must be back at camp.

      “I think I need a drink after that,” says Harding. They begin walking back towards the camp—about 50 metres from them. The spider really did manage to drag her quite far out. A worrying thought, considering these spiders are half the size of the ones found in caves. She had that unfortunate experience when exploring the caves at the Storm Coast.

      Krem laughs, “And an extra bowl of stew. I saw you throw yours at the spider.”

      “I panicked and threw the first thing that could be a weapon.” They both laugh, coming back into the camp.

      Cassandra moves towards Harding, worry etched on her face, she kneels, checking Harding’s arms for injuries, “Are you alright, Lace?”

      “Perfectly fine. Just went for a light stroll through the sand.”

      Lydia leaps towards the two, arms wrapping around Harding, trapping the kneeling Cassandra in between them.

      “Thank the Maker’s tits, I thought the spider had you!” she says.

      “Excuse me?” comes a muffled voice from Cassandra, her face squished against Harding’s shoulder.

      Lydia pulls away, grinning sheepishly, “Right, sorry Cass.”

      The warrior moves away from the two, rubbing her face.

      “Sorry, Cassandra,” says Harding. “I’m covered in sand. I just felt as though I needed some exfoliation.”

      She hears Krem chuckle behind her.

      Cassandra just sends her a smile, “We’ll get that armour scrubbed in the morning. Why don’t you get changed into something more comfortable?”

      Lydia leans towards Harding’s ear, “She’s being a mother again.”

      The dwarf just giggles.

 

+++

 

Dorian’s already gone to bed by the time Harding drags herself outside. Now it’s her watch. Lydia’s meant to be on with her, but the Inquisitor is still sleeping—and Harding doesn’t want to bother her. Not to mention the ordeal she went through earlier tonight. More spiders could still be out there.

      Krem looks up at her approach, “You know, it is kind of peaceful out here. When you take away all the shit.”

      Harding sits down of the log next to him, waiting for him to continue.

      “Like the spiders, of course. They’re shit. But there are the Venatori too. I knew Tevinter was fucked up, but not so bad they want to destroy the world. I mean, it’s my home country.” His shoulders sag. “They wonder why everyone hates Tevinter.”

      “I’m sure not all of Tevinter is bad. I hear the architecture is beautiful.”

      Krem chuckles, “It is when you have time to stop and look without getting mugged and zapped by Magisters.”

      “Well, what about the food?” asks Harding.

      “Great when someone isn’t trying to poison you.”

      She blinks and shifts towards Krem, “There is one thing good about Tevinter. I got to meet you.”

      Krem looks at Harding, mouth slightly open, eyes wide.

      Harding just blushes, trying to keep her heart from exploding out of her chest, “I guess I should thank Tevinter for the events that led you here—to the Inquisition.”

      His hand comes to hers, “Well, I should thank Fereldan for the events that led _you_ here.”

      Harding can’t help but snort, “Yeah, a boring farm life and a mother who loves her sewing material a little too much.”

      Krem chuckles. His brown eyes shine in the light of the fire and Harding notices for the first time the golden flecks in them.

      He unclasps his cloak and hands it to Harding, “You might need this. It’ll be cold.”

      “Krem, you keep it. Tents aren’t that warm. Nor are bedrolls for that matter.”

      He stands slowly, “Well, it’s a shame I don’t have anyone to help warm it.” The smile he gives her is dangerous.

      Harding’s cheeks are on fire, despair the cold and she opens her mouth.

      The tent rustles and Lydia rolls out of it, groaning, “Harding, can we just not?” Her eyes are closed as she lies in the sand. “I don’t want to be on watch.”

      Krem gives Harding’s hand a squeeze, winking at her, “Come on Inquisitor. Those spiders aren’t that bad.” Walking over to the Inquisitor, he pokes at her with the toe of his boot.

      Lydia kicks at him and he leaps away, cackling.

      She shoots him a look, “Shut it, Krem. Just because you don’t have a crippling fear.”

      “Good night,” he sings. Krem stops just before he goes into his tent, sending a smile to Harding.

      It makes her heart melt.


	14. Defying Gravity

Krem floats on his back, the cool water moving through his fingers as he paddles gently along the lake. Dorian stands next to him, moving droplets of water through his fingers, playing with his magic.

      Damn mages, Krem thinks. He’s joking of course, but life in Tevinter may have been a hell of a lot easier if he was gifted as a mage.

      He lets out a sigh. The water fight had tired him out. A tough fight, girls against the guys. He’ll give the girls the win for today, only because Vivienne had ended the fight with a massive wave that washed everyone out.

      And now, after lunch, they’ve all gone back into the water to cool off. Bull picks Sera up and chucks her into the deeper part of the lake, not without a scream from the elf.

      Josephine and Leliana chat quietly under the shade of a tree, feet dipped in the shore of the lake. The rest of Lydia’s inner circle mill around, talking and laughing.

      But it’s the three women in the middle of the lake that get Krem’s attention. More so, one woman over the rest.

      Harding chucks a piece of spindleweed out into the middle of the lake as she watches the other two.

      Lydia is lifted out of the water sitting on Cassandra’s shoulders, legs wrapped through Cassandra’s arms. Krem watches out of curiosity, coming to stand in the water and Dorian makes a noise beside him, “This’ll be interesting.” 

      Harding treads water beside Lydia and Cassandra and says something that makes them laugh.

      Then Cassandra ducks back down into the water and Lydia’s shoulders are just below the surface. Harding makes her way over, placing her feet on top of Lydia’s shoulders. Lydia helps the dwarf to crouch and Cassandra straightens, bringing the two girls into the air as the warrior gasps for breath.

      Now standing on Lydia’s shoulders, Harding straightens fully, grinning from ear to ear. Krem can hardly believe his eyes. They just managed to stack three people on top of each other—Cassandra on the bottom, Lydia sitting on the warrior’s shoulders, then Harding standing on top of the Inquisitor’s shoulders.

      He can’t help but admire Cassandra’s strength—though aided by the water.

      Harding holds her arms in the air, “I’m finally tall!”

      Lydia barks a laugh, and Harding wobbles, but manages to straighten, steadying herself with a hand on Lydia’s head. The Inquisitor has her hands wrapped tightly around Harding’s ankles to help her steady the dwarf.

      “Fasta vaas, we know this isn’t going to end well,” mutters Dorian. Lydia’s inner circle clap at the three women.

      “Colour me impressed,” says Varric. “You’re really defying gravity there, Harding.”

      “I do like leaping boundaries,” she says.

      Bull’s splashing water in Cassandra’s face to try and distract her.

      “Do that again and I will personally see to your balls being crushed under my fist,” says the warrior.

      “Is that an offer?” asks Bull, eyebrow rising in question.

      “Maker chief, not now,” whines Krem.

      The chief just laughs, “Ah, I’ve got an eye on someone anyway.” His eyes flick to Dorian, a spark in them.

      The Tevinter mage misses Bull’s look as he watches the three women.

      Cassandra bristles in anger, “I did not mean—” her scream echoes across the lake and she jolts backwards.

      Lydia slips from the warrior’s shoulders with a “Shit!”

      Krem can only watch as they seem to fall in slow motion, tipping into the water. But Harding’s foot slips off Lydia’s shoulders and she pitches forward with a scream.

      Krem watches in horror as Harding plummets into the water, a smack resounding across the lake as her stomach hits the water and she disappears under the surface.

      A collective gasp moves throughout the group and Krem takes a step, fear clawing at his stomach. Dorian holds his arm, giving him a reassuring look.

      Lydia springs up from the water, gasping for air and Cassandra does the same, keeping close to the Inquisitor, eyes scanning the water’s surface.

      “Where’s Lace?” screams Lydia. She slaps the water, searching.

      And Harding vaults from under the water, sucking in air as she grips Lydia’s shoulder, the water still a little too deep for her.

      Lydia holds the dwarf like her life depends on it.

      Krem’s breath rushes out of his throat, relief pulsing through his veins. He had been paralyzed in fear, only able to watch in horror.

      Lydia’s laughing now, a loud laugh that has everyone watching.

       “I think my stomach just high-fived the water,” Harding says, holding a hand to her tunic.

      “Harding,” cackles Lydia, almost keeling over. She’s laughing too hard to finish her sentence. “Best. Fall. Ever.”

      Harding laughs, “Don’t worry, I’ve got a stomach made of steel.”

      Cassandra barks a laugh, “Nothing can hurt our Head Scout.”

      “Yes, but apparently something can hurt you, Seeker. We all heard you scream,” says Varric.

      Cassandra rolls her eyes, “Something swam past my ankle. It was slimly.”

      “The Seeker was scared? Never.”

      She just groans.

      Bull’s laugh booms through the woods, “I think you three deserve some drinks. What do ya say?”

      Lydia grins, “Yes! Maker’s tits, I really need an ale.”

      Harding rubs her stomach, “Yeah, I may need two.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short little chapter today, but I hope you enjoy!


	15. Distractions

They slink through the undergrowth, crouching and heads low. Harding’s out in front, with the Inquisitor flanking her, while Krem takes the rear.

      He can spot the other three on the far side of the clearing, Varric leading, while Cassandra and Dorian take the sides.

      And in the middle of the clearing is a bear. Its brown coat shines in the Hinterland sun, while its front claws scratch at the ground, searching for bugs to snack on.

      And hopefully, it will give the Inquisition some much needed meat to eat and fur for armour. Supplies are running painfully slow at the moment, as everything was destroyed when Haven was buried in snow—and Venatori.

      Harding flicks her eyes to Lydia and Krem, “It’ll smell us as soon as the wind changes. If Varric or I can’t land the first arrow, just make sure it doesn’t run. We’ve tracked him for days now.”

      Krem nods.

      “And if it runs at us?” asks Lydia.

      “Scream,” comes the scout’s reply.

      Lydia grins, “I’m sure I can do that.”

      The two women share a laugh.

      Krem narrows his eyes, “Are we good?”

      “Sorry, we were just having a moment,” says Lydia.

      Harding grins once more before turning back to the bear, “Alright. Be a good bear and stand still.”

      She shifts, moving to stand behind a bush. Someone her stature can easily hide amongst the bushes. Krem can’t help but think it’s kinda cute.

      She strings an arrow and he spots Varric doing the same, a steel bolt loaded in his crossbow.

      Harding takes a deep breath, while Krem and Lydia stay crouched in the undergrowth. Lydia stands on Harding’s left, while Krem stays behind Harding.

      He’s gotta admit, it’s not a bad view. The dwarf fills out those breeches pretty well.

      Krem hears a faint hiss and then a roar, the undergrowth crunching beneath heavy feet and it’s only from Lydia punching him in the arm that he jolts from his daydream.

      Harding leaps from her position, bow still in hand as she jumps into the clearing. Lydia’s pulling his arm and they tumble through the undergrowth.

      A mass of brown fur blurs past Krem’s face and he falls back as the bear skids to a stop, an arrow stuck in its face.

      “Got you!” says Harding, moving over to the bear.

      Krem snaps from his daze, helping Lydia to her feet. Varric and Harding examine the bear.

      “It’s pretty big,” says Varric. “Enough meat and fur to feed the entire Inquisition.”

      “We’ll have to see about that,” says Harding. “I think Bull will eat it all, right Krem?”

      Krem blinks at his name, “Yeah. That bastard won’t share.”

      Harding grins at him then nudges the bear, “Right, let’s get him back to camp.”

      Varric clicks his tongue, “I’ve done my part. Cassandra can carry it back.”

      “Ugh. You’re the one that nearly got us killed. Your bolt missed.”

      “Yeah,” says Lydia. “If Harding didn’t shoot off that other arrow, we all would’ve been crushed.”

      “I didn’t think the bear would slip over its own feet and slide over to you,” says Varric. “It was doing a Stumbles.”

      Lydia sends him a look at the mention of her nickname, “It was worse than me. It nearly killed us. If we hadn’t gotten out the way.”

      Krem rubs his neck. It all happened too fast for him to even comprehend. He wasn’t looking at the bear. He had a much better view in front of him. But from what he gathered, Harding shot the first arrow and the bear charged. Varric missed, so Harding had to fire another arrow and killed it. But not before it slid through the damp undergrowth and nearly crushed them.

      He curses himself for being distracted.

      The others busy themselves with examining the bear.

      “You alright there?” asks Lydia. She stands next to him, arms crossed.

      “Yep. Perfectly fine.”

      “More like perfectly out of it.”

      “I was distracted.” _By Harding_.

      “Oh?”

      Krem gives Lydia a look, crossing his own arms, “Must be an off day for me. It happens to the best of us.”

      “Ah,” says Lydia, nodding. She watches as the others work, “You, my dear sir, have a severe case of a crush. It’s called go fucking ask her on a date already.”

      Krem coughs, “You’re a doctor now?”

      He doesn’t need to ask who _her_ is.

      “Oh, it’s not that hard. You’re showing all the symptoms. Firstly,” she holds up a finger, “You stumble over words every time you talk to her.”

      “I do not.”

      “Secondly,” she holds up two fingers, “You get the sudden urge to show off when she’s around. You know… like winning the training duals, or making sure you look good around her.”

      Krem just gives the Inquisitor a look, but turns away. He tries not to look at Harding, instead he stares at the bear. His flirting hasn’t been that obvious, has it? Lydia, who herself can’t even talk properly around Cullen, can see that he may just have a thing for the dwarven scout.

      “And thirdly. Her eye level is around about here,” her hand hovers just below her chest, indicating Harding’s height. “And you, dear child, are staring here.” She lowers her hand to just below her hip. She gives him a smug smile, “You’re checking out her ass.”

      Krem blinks, “I am not.”

      “Are to.”

      “Am not.”

      “Are to.”

      Krem shakes his head, trying not to blush. Fasta vass, he hasn’t blushed in a long time. “No way.”

      “Alright, what were you doing that made you so distracted?” Her smug grin tells him she’s already won.

      He doesn’t know what to say. His eyes move to Harding as she slings her bow across her body.

      “Hey,” Lydia nudges him, “I thought you were the womanizer of the Inquisition. You’ve managed to get other girls before—so Bull tells me.”

      Krem sends Lydia a look, “Yeah but… Lace… she’s different. She’s…” he scratches the back of his head. “I don’t want it to be a fling, you know? I want something meaningful.”

      “Well, go ask her.”

      “What? No way. Why would she want to be with me?” Why would she choose him, when there are other men who—

      “You’re kidding, right?”

      Her statement pulls him from his thoughts. Krem stares at Lydia, his jaw clenched. But her own glare is enough to make Krem look away.

      She places a hand on Krem’s shoulder, “I think you’re doubting yourself too much. Harding’s a good person and if I know one thing, it’s that she’s totally into you as well. Come on, you’ve known another for months now, someone needs to make a move.”

      He blinks.

      Was she into the _idea_ of him or because of who he was—inside and out? He just hoped it was the latter. Sure, he and Harding have flirted various times, but he doesn’t know if she wants to take that further.

      Harding straightens, stretching her back as she tries to haul the bear onto the carriage. He catches her eye and she sends him a shy smile.

      He guesses there’s only one way to find out for sure. This time, he isn’t going to be scared. With a glance at Lydia, he moves towards Harding, “Here, I’ll help. After all, being strong was on that checklist of mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Krem's going after the booty.


	16. Wintersend

The gift giving had been a frenzy and Krem never got to give his present to Harding. He kicks himself for it, but he notices Harding heading towards the tavern to continue drinking and he spots his chance.

She’s walking next to Haley, giggling at something the elf says.

      Bull’s at the tavern door with Stitches and the chief looks back at Krem. But he waves Bull to go on to the tavern—he’ll meet them in there.

      Wintersend is a day many look forward to each year, a day of celebration with family and friends. Of course, the true celebration is for the Maker, but many like to enjoy the day with loved ones. And, lots of drinking—which is what they’re heading to do.

      Krem can’t help but take a deep breath, clutching the box to his chest. The box, adorned with carvings he etched with a small knife, has her present inside. The golden nug he had crafted for her, sits in a pool of purple velvet. The plush toy has little wings stitched to its back, along with silver thread etched into patterns of vines along its back. He started making it back in Haven, but didn’t know who to give it to. Then he made some changes to it and decided Harding deserved it.

      She’d gotten him something—which found his way to him when the gifts were being handed out. And he feels bad that he couldn’t thank her for it—or give her his gift in return. Krem still can’t believe she got him a set of needles and pins, along with some fabric—too do a bit of sewing. She knows him too well. But the best part was the tankard she got him. It’s made from a jet black obsidian, with flakes of dawnstone—a purple stone Krem knows is found in Emprise Du Lion. The handle is encrusted with a golden bull—a nod to the Chargers.

      He wasn’t expecting such a gift, but it made his heart beat faster. When he looked at her to thank her, she was busy laughing along with Lydia and Sera.

      Krem moves over towards the couple, taking a deep breath. He can’t believe he’s still a nervous fool around her.

      When he walks up to them, he clears his throat, more for his benefit to clear his parched throat, than announcing his presence. “Ladies. Happy Wintersend.”

      Harding looks at him, a smile spreading across her face, “You too Krem.”

      He smiles, a chuckle escaping his lips.

      “I thought you’d be in the tavern by now, Krem,” says Haley.

      He shrugs, a grin on his face, “Ah, you know, I got side-tracked by you lovely ladies.”

      Haley just scoffs, “Oh please.”

      Harding smiles, blushing as she looks at the ground, “You’re too kind.”

      “Are you two drinking tonight?”

      “What type of question is that, of course we are,” says Haley.

      She always was a feisty one.

      Harding nods, “Lydia promised me a drink. Maker knows I need one.”

      “I’ll have to buy you both a tankard of Sack Mead. That’ll get the night going,” suggests Krem. Not only would one of those drinks put some chest on your chest, it’s one of the strongest drinks in all of Thedas. Even Bull has trouble downing a couple of tankards. And that’s saying something.

      Haley just slaps Krem on the shoulder, “Sorry pal, I only except drinks from girls.” She gives him a shrug.

      Harding laughs, “Meaning you’re waiting for one girl in particular to buy you a drink.”

      Haley shoots her a look.

      “I did see her go into the tavern just now. I think I heard her say something about a certain scout she saw the other day. An elf, with black hair.”

      Haley is an elf with black hair.

      The elf grips Harding’s arm, “What did she say about me?”

      Harding’s green eyes flick to Krem and she smiles at him. They flick back to Haley, “I’m not too sure. I guess you’ll just have to find out. She should be in the tavern playing some chess.”

      Haley squeals, “Ma serannas, Lace.”

      “The pleasure is all mine,” says the dwarf. “Now go before she begins to talk to someone else.”

      Haley squeezes Harding’s hand before rushing off into the tavern.  

      Harding just laughs, “She’s been eyeing that human for weeks. I doubt I’ll see her all night now.”

      “I think you just got Haley laid.”   

      “Ah, she needs it. Truly. We just came back from the Fallow Mire. I only needed to give her a little push.”

      He thinks Harding may just need it as well, but doesn’t voice his opinion. Instead he plays it cool, grinning, “A little push? I’d say that was a shove.”

      Harding smiles, “Just trying to help. You know how it is, helping young love. Haley just better not keep having _sick_ days. I need her long legs to help push me through the sand in the Western Approach.”

      He laughs. Her green eyes sparkle in the firelight and her freckles are sprinkled across her face. Krem can’t help but want to map them out, like stars in the night sky.

      Harding touches his arm, “Are you enjoying the festivities?” The change in subject isn’t forced.  
      “Of course. Any excuse to drink and be with friends,” he says. They’re about to head into the tavern, but Krem pulls her aside, “Speaking of the festivities, I have something to give you.”

      Her eyes widen, “Krem, you didn’t have to.”

      He grins, pulling her by the hand to a corner behind the tavern, so no one can disturb them.

      Krem looks down at his feet, suddenly nervous, “I wanted to thank you, for the gift you got me.”

      A smile spreads across her face, “You liked it?”

      “Of course. The Chargers drink a lot, so having my own tankard will come in handy. Plus, it’s bigger than the ones given at the Herald’s Rest.”

      She just scoffs playfully, “I knew you’d figure that out.”

      He looks at the box in his hands, “I didn’t get a chance to give you this at the gift giving. It may not be a tankard, but I hope you like it.”

      She tentatively takes the box from his hands, “Krem, you didn’t have to, really.”

      He just snorts, “Oh please, I wasn’t _not_ going to get you anything.”

      She just smiles before opening the box. Inside is the stuffed, golden nug. It’s bigger than his hand, its stumpy legs allowing it to sit in the velvet.

      She gasps, “Maker! This is beautiful, Krem.” She gently takes the nug from its place on the velvet, and Krem holds the box for her. She plays with its feet, smiling at its little face, “I… you know I love nugs!”

      He just shrugs, trying to act confident, even though his heart is racing. She really does like his present. Thank the Maker. “Ah, it was nothing. Those needles and thread you got me will certainly come in handy though.”

      She throws her arms around his neck, “Thank you.”

      He stands there stunned like the idiot he is, before sliding his hands up her back to return the hug.

      “No one’s ever made me anything like this before,” she says into his chest.

      “Well, I’m honoured to be the first,” he says.

      When she pulls away, she clutches the nug to her chest, “I’ll be sure to put this in a safe spot.” She smiles at the nug again before placing it back in its velvet bed. “You’re drinking tonight, right?”

      He grins, “Of course.”

 

+++

 

Krem takes a gulp of his drink and moves his king along the checkered board. He knocks out Bull’s king and grins, “I think that’s game.”

      Bull slams his fist on the table, “I _had_ that one, Krem.”

      Krem just leans back in his seat, “Doesn’t look like you did, you old fart.”

      Bull eyes him, “What do you want?”

      He scoffs, “Nothing. It was a harmless game of chess. Loser doesn’t owe the winner anything.”

      Bull is suspicious, “Come on. You’ve never won a game and not asked for a drink. What do you want?”

      “Nothing,” insists Krem.

      Bull watches him for a few seconds before chuckling, finger drumming on the table, “You gave her the gift?”

      Krem nods.

      “That’s why you’re so happy. She loved it.”

      “Of course she did, I gave it to her.”

      “Krem da la crème,” Bull chuckles, shaking his head. “Just go fuck her already.”

      “Chief,” Krem yells, throwing his queen piece at the Qunari. It bounces off his chest and _thunks_ to the table, rolling to a stop. “Don’t… I’m not going to _fuck_ her.” The last two words are a whisper.

      Bull just rolls his eyes, “Sleep with her. Same difference. I forgot you humans are delicate about those things.”

      “We’re not delicate. But I’m not going to just go down on her tonight. It’s...”

      “You could,” taunts Bull.

      Krem rolls his eyes, “Well I’m not going to.”

      “Ah, you’re too much like those books, Krem. You take it too slow.” But there’s an understanding in Bull’s eyes, “You humans just seem to have a different way than Qunari. But, it seems to be working. So take it as slow as you want.”

      Krem sends him a confused look, “You just said to sleep with her.”

      Bull shrugs, leaning back in his chair, “If you won’t do it my way, then you’ve obviously got it all figured out.”

      Krem crosses his arms, “Yeah. It’s all figured out. I’ve got it.”

      He doesn’t, but he tries to trick himself into thinking he does—reverse thinking, someone had once told him.

      And Bull’s drunk anywhere, so what does his opinion matter?

      He’s not going to dwell on what Bull says. He doesn’t want to ruin a good night.   

      But still.

      No. He hasn’t even _kissed_ her yet.

      That’s when the tavern erupts in cheers. Krem looks to the stage to see Lydia dancing with Sera, their arms linked as they skip in circles around the wooden stage. Harding and Cassandra are doing the same, on the other side of Maryden. The Bard just laughs, playing a fast tune on her lyre.

      Krem can hear Bull laughing beside him, “I think I saw them having Tevinter spirits before.”

      Krem turns to the chief, face twisted in horror, “ _Tevinter_ spirits? Maker, they’ll be out of it in the morning.”

      Bull just grins, “But they’ll have a good night. Might score a man too.” The look he sends Krem is dangerous.

      If another man so nearly touches Harding, he’ll be at her side in a second.

      The thought scares him though. When did he get so protective of her?

      Krem just raises an eyebrow, “Pretty sure Lydia only has eyes for Cullen. No man’s going to get past him. Not to mention Cassandra’s on high alert. Such a mother.”

      He doesn’t mention Harding, but Bull knows—of course he does—that Krem’s thinking about the dwarf.

      When he looks back at the women, he must admit, Harding does seem to be having fun. Her and Sera are now skipping around each other, screaming the lyrics to the song at each other.

      He chuckles at that. Through the slurred words, Lace actually has a nice singing voice. Lydia dances around Cassandra—who looks like she’s been hit by the alcohol the most. The warrior stands still as Lydia continues to move in circles around her—but Cassandra bursts into laugher, so loud that Krem can hear her from where he sits.

      He can’t help but laugh as well, “Those spirits hit them hard.”

 

+++

 

Harding knows she’s drunk, can feel the warmth rush through her veins and tinge her cheeks red.

      She’s outside, she doesn’t know how she got there or why. But Sera is swinging from one of the tree branches, her small clothes the only thing covering her modesty. She chants something, but Harding can’t understand one word.

      Lydia is face down on the grass screaming something about chocolate cake. An empty tankward lies on the ground next to her.

      Judging from the low position of the moon, it must be at least three in the morning. Maker, the night has gone fast.

      A serious looking Cassandra walks from the tavern. She walks up to Lydia, who’s still face down on the ground. Harding notices Krem watching from the group that appears from the tavern after Cassandra, a grin on his face. Bull slaps him on the shoulder.

      Cassandra, who looks like she’s about to scream at Lydia, just drops to her knees and starts yelling the Chant of Light in a sing-song voice. Lydia’s head snaps up and she begins it too—the pair chanting it at the top of their lungs.

      Soon they’re up, skipping around each other as they yell the Chant. Harding and Sera decide to join in, screaming random words at one another.

      Harding doesn’t know how long this lasts, put the moon has moved when she checks it again, the sky much lighter than it was before. Streaks of orange curve through the light clouds, turning the sky almost purple. But she soon feels the heavy drag of her limbs, the pull of sleep alluring her.

      Lydia’s inner circle had long since gone to bed—Krem with them. But a part of her brain remembers that he was clutching the tankard she gave him close to his chest as he left.

      Harding sits on the grass, eyelids drooping as she tries to continue yelling random words. But she’s got no energy left, the last of the alcohol seeping from her veins.

      Even Lydia and Cassandra have gone quiet, sitting in the damp grass.

      The four of them huddle together and the last thing Harding remembers in how bright the moon looks. And the warm feeling in her stomach as she thinks about her golden nug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeez, what a party. And Bull's being as subtle as ever ;) Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. Stay safe my children.


	17. Rough Morning

Krem grins at a brooding Harding as she sips her drink—a mix of elfroot, honey and Maker knows what else to ease the effects of alcohol.

      She’s gotten changed out of her tunic from last night into something more comfortable and her hair is tied back in a messy braid. A sight unusual for Krem. He’s used to her intricate bun. They sit in the tavern, the mid-morning patrons dining on various fruits and toasted bread loafs.

      She doesn’t touch the warm bread in front on her, nor the plate of fruit. Her eyes are glued to the table and she hasn’t spoken much.

      In short, she’s got a hangover. A big hangover.

      According the Leliana, the drink should be helping straight away, but the way Harding shields her eyes and holds her head tells Krem otherwise.

      And every time she takes a sip, she shudders. Krem’s had the pleasure of needing the remedy before and he can say it tasted foul.

      “So…” drawls Krem, biting a bit of his piece of toasted bread.

      “Don’t even ask,” she snaps.

      Krem lets out a bark of laughter, “I didn’t even say anything.”

      “You were going to.” There’s a spark of mischief in her eyes.

      “How’s your head?”

      She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, “Apart from a pounding headache, I’d say pretty good.” She flashes him a smile, “How are you feeling?”

      “Not as bad as you, I assure,” he says with a smirk.

      Harding just chuckles, “Rub it in, why don’t you.”

      “How many drinks did you have again?”

      Harding purses her lips, “Can I say I don’t remember?”

      Krem laughs again, “You don’t remember?”

      A blush creeps along her cheeks, “I lost count after five.” She hesitates, “You said Sera and I had an archery competition?”

      Krem smiles, “You won, by the way. It was marvelous.”

      “I didn’t hurt anyone did I?”

      “Maker, no. You two were fine.”

      Harding breathes a sigh of relief, “Next time I decide to have more than five drinks, please keep me away from a bow and arrow.”

      “Noted.”

      She smiles, “Actually, just keep me away from the sixth drink.”

      “Ah,” hums Krem. “Lydia forced you to have another, if I remember. Said it was good for you. ‘Dwarves have thick skin after all, you can take it!’” He does his best Lydia impersonation.

      She groans, “It did a lot of good, obviously.”

      Krem pushes the plate of fruit towards her, “Eat, Lace. You’ll feel better.”

      She glances at him before gingerly picking up a piece of apple and nibbling at it, “Mm. Yum.”

      A sarcastic tone if Krem’s ever heard one.

      “It’ll do,” he says.

      They lapse into a comfortable silence and Harding takes a sip of her drink before continuing to eat her apple. Krem watches her, the flutter of her eyelashes against her cheeks as she blinks, the way her hands grip the tankard, knuckles white.

      When she swallows, her eyes move to his.

      But the tavern door opens to reveal Lydia, Cassandra, Bull and Dorian. They spot the two at the booth and walk over.

      “Ah, there’s my man,” says Bull, slapping Krem on the back. From the force of the slap, Krem’s piece of toasted bread falls from his hand, dropping to the table.

      Harding sends Krem an amused look.

      Lydia and Cassandra slide into the booth next to Harding, while Dorian and Bull squeeze in next to Krem.

      Harding’s grinning at Lydia, “Enjoy the drink?” She lifts her remedy.

      Lydia lets out a groan, “It’s feral. Absolutely feral.”    

      “Considering you mixed it with your milk, I’d say it was far from delicious,” says Cassandra.

      The look of horror on Harding’s face makes Krem laugh.

      The scout just stares at Lydia, “You did what?”

      Lydia coughs, “I thought that because I love milk, if I combine my milk and my remedy, it might taste alright.”

      Harding raised her eyebrows in question.

      “It tasted like Corypheus’ ass.”

      “I haven’t had the pleasure of knowing what that tastes like,” says Harding, almost innocently. “I don’t think I want to.”

      “Can you imagine?” asks Dorian. “I wonder if the Magister even has anything of worth… down there.”

      Lydia looks at Dorian, disgust etched on her face, “He’s more than a century old, Dorian. Do you really want to know?”

      “I want to see how well Tevinter ages.”

      “He wouldn’t be able to last too long,” says Bull. “Unlike myself.”

      “Gross, chief. We’re eating here,” says Krem, holding up his piece of toast.

      Bull just laughs.

      “But just imagine,” says Dorian, clasping his hands together. “And he’s very tall. You know what that means right?”

      Lydia’s face is a mix of horror and doubt.

      “It’s means he has a big pe—”

      “I think we know Dorian,” she snaps. “And I’m not sure you want to find out. I saw him up close. Believe me, it wasn’t fun. My feet were dangling a metre from the ground.”

      “Didn’t he have you by the throat?” asks Harding. 

      “Oh, so he likes it rough, does he?” smiles Bull.

      Lydia’s mouth drops open and Harding nearly drops her apple, clearing her throat, “That’s… that’s not what I meant. I mean, he might like it… ah… rough. But…”

      Lydia nods her head, “Harding and I don’t have any plans of finding out anytime soon. Cassandra on the other hand…”

      “Ugh.”

      “Well, he might read _Swords & Shields_,” jokes Krem.

      Lydia and Harding laugh, while Cassandra sits fuming.

      Bull nods, seemingly enjoying this, “Next time we find Corypheus, let’s ask him.”

      “I will not be the one to ask,” says Lydia. “Dorian, I nominate you.”

      “I would proudly ask if he’s still able to perform,” smirks the Tevinter. “He may be using blood magic to allow himself to get—”

      “Don’t want to know, Dorian.”

      “Not even a little?”

      “You’ll probably die,” says Lydia. But she shrugs, “But, we probably all will anyway, so what does it matter?”

      “That’s positive thinking.”

      “I’ve gotta think positive. I am the Inquisitor, after all.”

      The group chats for a little while longer before everyone begins to trickle off to their chores.

      Krem is left alone with Harding again and as Bull leaves the tavern, he sends Krem a knowing smirk.

      Krem just rolls his eyes at the chief, remembering their conversation last night.

      His gaze turns back to Harding and he notices that she’s eaten most of her bread and some pieces of fruit. Her drink is almost gone.

      The bags under her eyes have disappeared and she’s not shielding her face from the light anymore.

      The spark is back in her eyes.

      “Feeling a little better?” asks Krem.    

      “Much. Leliana was right. Drinking this is the hardest part,” she holds up the remedy, “But it does a great job.”

      Krem cocks his head, “What do you say I train with you? Get you back on your feet. I always feel better after hitting something.”

      Harding’s eyes light up, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

      Krem stands from the booth and holds a hand out for Harding to take.

      She hesitates shyly before slipping her hand into his. Krem helps her from the booth and they leave the tavern.

      The sun is at its peak, but there’s still a chill in the air. They head towards the training ring, not bothering with armour.

      “Ready to get your ass kicked?” Krem asks, grabbing wooden swords for them both.

      “Oh, are you really underestimating me?” asks Harding.

      “Never,” grins Krem.

      “Good. Because you’re the one about to get your ass kicked.”

      And if he’s completely honest, Krem doesn’t mind getting beaten by a pretty girl like Lace.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm sorry for the slow upload! Uni's been a killer later. But here's a little fluffy chapter just to tide you guys over. Up next: romance and drama. :D


	18. Archery Contest

She holds the bow steadily, trying to block out the crowd around her. This was the final shot—the deciding one. A competition against Varric, her and Sera to see who is the better marksman, or markswoman.

      Varric’s own ego made him lose, his bolts hitting the target a little to the left. Sera and Harding are both tied, neck and neck with the same accuracy.

      It had been Lydia who came up with the deciding round.

      All Harding needs to do is shoot an arrow straight through three apples and get the tip dead centre. 

      Sera was a little left of the centre and didn’t manage to pierce the last apple. All Harding’s gotta do is aim a little better than Sera.

      Easy.

      She’s shot people in the eye before. Maybe not under this much pressure, but still, she has the skill somewhere hidden in her mind.

      Though she shouldn’t get too cocky. She’s still has to shoot yet and the nerves aren’t helping with her accuracy.

      She doesn’t remember what the prize is—if there is a prize. Doesn’t matter thought. She’s just here to show the Inquisition that she’s the best markswoman here. It’ll show them dwarves aren’t to be messed with.

      So as she lines up the shot, taking a deep breath, she focuses on the apples. They’re all green, lined up one behind the other in a straight line. She shifts slightly to the right—knowing the wind will help to steer her arrow.

      The crowd around her is silent and she clenches her jaw.

      Her mind is blank as she blinks one more time.

      The arrow flies from her bow, hissing past her cheek. The bow recoils in her hands, but she watches as the arrow flies towards the apples, almost in slow motion.

      There’s only her and the arrow, her eyes following its path.

      Then the arrow ploughs through the three apples, dead centre. The three pieces of fruit wobble on the table, but the arrow connecting them keeps the fruit stable.

      Harding can’t believe it.

      Her eyes move to Varric, his lips moving into a grin, “She’s won.”

      And the crowd’s cheering confirms it.

      A grin spreads across her face. She can’t believe she actually won. Harding’s eyes move to Lydia, who’s screaming the scout’s name in glee. The whole crowd is hysterical as they cheer and clap at her.

      Easy, she thinks.

      Even Sera’s hooting.

      Harding can’t believe it worked. She’s actually won something. She’s almost lost for words.

      Harding opens her mouth, but someone scoops her up in their arms, twirling her through the air. She can only hold on as her hair whips in her face.

      Their arms are wrapped tight around her waist, easily lifting her. But she can’t see who has her in their embrace, her hands gripping onto strong shoulders.

      When her feet touch the ground, she sees Krem step back, the grin on his face fading as his blushes. Actually blushes. His hands pull away from her in an embarrassed fluster. His hair is a mess and he slides his hands into his pockets.

      Harding tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, flustered from the twirl—from being embraced in his strong arms. She doesn’t know what to do.

      The crowd has gone silent—even Lydia’s watching in anticipation. The couple watch each other for a few seconds. Krem’s brown eyes, specked with gold watch hers and that smug grin of his is back.

      She can still feel the warmth on her cheeks. But something inside her ignites and Harding can’t stop herself.

      She drops her bow, taking a step towards Krem.

      Without so much as a blink, Krem envelops her in his arms and she presses her lips against his. It’s a desperate kiss, but she should have done this long ago.

      He has to bend down to reach her lips, but he doesn’t seem to mind, his strong hands coming to rest on her hips.

      His lips are chapped and taste of apple and they feel… they feel almost like home. Krem feels so right.

      The crowd’s cheering is even louder now.

      But Harding’s focused on the kiss. This kiss she’s dreamed of for weeks, this kiss she’s wanted for so long now. It’s wonderful and oh so dangerous, thrilling and beautiful. She loves every second of it.

      Harding’s fingers are in Krem’s hair and she doesn’t want this to end, but Krem pulls away, that smile still on his lips.

      She can feel the blush hot on her cheeks and Krem is grinning at her. Lydia is going ballistic and even the Seeker fist pumps the air.

      Iron Bull booms a laugh, “Drinks are on the Chargers tonight!”

      And the crowd goes wild.

 

+++

     

Harding can’t stop thinking about how his lips felt against hers. The kiss had felt perfect, like the ones only described in romance serials.

      She sits with Lydia and Cassandra at a booth in the tavern, eating dessert and chatting. They’ve been at the tavern for hours now, eating dinner and just unwinding. Krem’s been playing Wicked Grace with the Chargers, but whenever she glances over to him, he’s always giving her that smile—along with a wink every now and then.

      Though she’s been distracted with the various bits of gossip her friends have, her mind keeps wondering to Krem. She just wants to kiss him again.

      Harding can’t help but bite her lip as she forks a bit of chocolate cake. His strong hands had gripped her waist and it felt good… she felt safe in his arms.

      Lydia’s been at Harding for details all night, hounding her on the kiss. Harding, of course, told her and Cassandra what it was like. Even Cassandra asked her questions—the romantic that she is.

      Lydia’s in the middle of a story about her dealings with a giant, chasing her and her companions through the Emerald Graves, her arms flying around her as she describes the giant. Harding can’t help but laugh at the Inquisitor’s enthusiasm.

      But when Krem waltzes over, tankard in hand, the Inquisitor goes silent.

      Krem clears his throat, “Ladies.”

      “Krem,” smirks Lydia. “Come take a seat, I’m sure Harding won’t mind.”

      He smiles, “Thanks Inquisitor, but I’m actually after Lace.”

      “Oh, and what exactly do you plan on doing with her?”

      He just shrugs, “You know… things.”

      He eyes widen and Harding can feel the heat burning on her cheeks.

      Krem gives them a dark chuckle, “No, a matter of fact, I’ve been told I will escort you three to Val Royeaux in four days’ time, along with some of Harding’s scouts. I just need to discuss details.”

      Harding takes a sip of her drink, “And what exactly are we doing in Val Royeaux?”

      “Apparently Sera’s Red Jenny friends have left us a few goodies hidden away in the city. Leliana wants us to find them.”

      Harding grins, “A treasure hunt. I like it.”

      “Well, don’t let us disturb you two, I’m sure you can handle the treasure hunt just fine,” says Lydia.

      Krem chuckles, “Yeah, thanks for the faith, Lydia.”

      “Not a problem.”

      Krem looks to Harding, “I’ll discuss details later, but I’ll let you guys get back to whatever you were doing.”

      “Yeah, you interrupted my story about the giant in the Emerald Graves,” snaps Lydia.

      “Too bad it didn’t step on you.” The smirk on Krem’s face is wicked.

      Lydia scoffs, “Oh please, what would you do without me?”

      Krem glances at Harding, “Heaps of things.” And he winks at her.

      Harding blushes, “Careful, you wouldn’t want to strain yourself.”

      Now Krem scoffs playfully, “If that’s how you’re going to be, I’ll just head back to my game of Wicked Grace.” But he kisses Harding on the forehead before moving back to his game.

      The Chargers, who were all watching Krem, now grin at Harding. She swallows drily and cracks a shy smile.

      Bull slaps Krem on the back as the Second-Lieutenant slides back into his chair.

      And the grin Krem sends Harding has her heart exploding.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's about bloody time!


End file.
